CIEE Khon Kaen
Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
Isaan Insider
Ban Phai residents concerned about development Kaying Thor and Julianne Behrens
wide variety of vegetation and wildlife and a main water resource to the city of Ban Phai and its surrounding villages. It is thus is a key environmental concern for all parties. In 2015 the military government passed a ten-year national plan to boost industrialization in areas outside of the Bangkok Metropolitan Region. In Khon Kaen Province, 13 companies are set to invest in infrastructure projects and build factories. At the forum, organized by an local environmental preservation group, participants shared information about the projected industrial development. Conversations circled around the area being indicated as an industrial zone, and the need to withstand the environmental implications of this development. Some companies have already made first steps to prepare the industrialization of the area according to locals activists.
Kaeng Lawa Lake wetlands are a critical ecosystems that support a wide variety of vegetation and wildlife. Photo credit: Julianne Behrens BAN PHAI, KHON KAEN – Last Thursday, an environmental preservation group, academics, community leaders and local business representatives raised concerns about a ten-year national plan to industrialize Khon Kaen Province. At a forum in Ban Phai City, 20 participants discussed potentially negative effects of the development plan on communities and the environment in the Lawa Lake area and how to increase people’s participation in the government’s decision-making.
“There are 2,300 rai of land has already been bought by investors in the area, and brokers continue to talk to villagers,” says Tianchai Sunthong, a member of an environmental preservation group in Kaeng Lawa. A recent survey conducted by the environmental protection group and two American students indicates that residents in the Lawa Lake area are largely uninformed about the plans for industrial development. The 126 respondents from 12 villages expressed conflicted feelings about industrial development in the area as it might lead to potential economic benefits yet environmental destruction.
Lawa Lake is a critical ecosystem that supports a
About 76% of participants stated that they believe development will have environmental impacts that might affect people’s ways of life. Concerns range from water and air pollution, increase of noise and smells, loss of biodiversity, negative effects on
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
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agricultural and livestock, and overcrowding in the area. However, 41.1% of those who completed the survey also stated that development may be beneficial in providing jobs and increasing business in the area, which in turn may slow down rural to urban migration. The survey also notes that about 68% of respondents are unaware of their individual rights, and 62% are unaware of their community rights. Participants at the forum noted that knowing one’s rights is a key concern for further discussion and action to be taken in regards to the industrial development in the area.
development to be done in the area, and studying previous impacts of industrial development in other areas. The group also agreed to meet more frequently to strengthen their abilities to steer the industrial development as it becomes an impending reality. Kaying Thor is a Social Work student at Bethel University. Julianne Behrens is a Marketing and International Development student at Tulane University. They have been studying about development and globalization issues in Khon Kaen for the last four months.
Narisorn Chanyanithat, a businessman who attended the forum, believes that the people of Ban Phai should be able to direct this development because of the overall impact it will have on them. Narisorn also stated that the industrial sector is currently “spending near 450 million baht on research of the environmental effects of turning Khon Kaen into an industrial area, claiming that biodiversity and the environment will remain unharmed.” As the forum progressed, it became clear that the focus of participants’ discussion had shifted from stopping the industrialization of the province to organizing people of Ban Phai to fight for having a voice in the industry’s development. “How can we adjust ourselves for the development coming in because the development is unavoidable?” asks Jarunpit Jantasri, a local activist working in the Lawa Lake area. At the end of the forum, participants agreed on four key areas to guide further discussion on industrial development in Ban Phai including developing a name for the movement Khon Rak Ban Phai (People Who Love Ban Phai), researching community rights intensively, gathering more solid facts about future Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
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Den Khamlae – The disappearing face of a land rights movement Den Khamlae had been a prominent land rights activist in Chaiyaphum province for the past three decades. Until he suddenly disappeared in April 2016. Zac Cooper, Caroline Van Buskirk and Praveena Fernes
She recognized the fertilizer bag he had fashioned into a sack he carried for his journeys into the forest. She knew it was her own stitching in the shirt. Although she had assumed it for some time, there was finally evidence to support her worst nightmare: her husband, villager leader, and land rights activist Den Khamlae, was dead.
KHOK YAO, CHAIYAPHUM – At noon on a sultry day last month, Suphap Khamlae heard a knock on her door from a friend. While out looking for food in the forest, he had stumbled across something strange. Filled with a sense of foreboding, Suphap asked some other villagers to accompany her to the area. The five of them walked two kilometers through the forest to the somber site. At the very first glance, Suphap knew what she saw were his. “My heart sank,” she says.
Suphap Khamlae stands next to a picture of her husband, Den – a man who is praised for his sincerity, directness, generosity, courage, and self-discipline by those close to him This gave a semblance of closure, but even more questions arose. A skull was found beside Den’s belongings on a path that its finder takes everyday to scavenge for food. Community members are still waiting for forensics to confirm their fears – Den’s disappearance and death.
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
Eleven months earlier, Den walked into the Khok Yao Forest which is located in between Chaiyaphum Province’s Phu Sam Phak Nam Reserve Forest and Phu Khiau Wildlife Sanctuary in Loei Province.
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On the day of his disappearance, Den and his wife had spent the morning at the local market before returning home. While his wife stayed at home, Den left his house around 9 a.m. Carrying sticky rice, drinking water, a knife, a shovel, and his homemade sack, Den headed in the direction of the Phu Khiau Wildlife Sanctuary. His two dogs walked with him. Around 3 p.m. the same day, one of the dogs returned, and the other later that night. But there was no sign of Den. One of the dogs had scars on his body, prompting concern. Some villagers in Khok Yao claimed they heard a gunshot at around 10 p.m.
under that branch’s jurisdiction, but rather the wildlife sanctuary’s jurisdiction. Early this month, the community hosted a two-day forum to memorialize Den. The first half focused on his life and leadership in the community’s fight for land reform. The remainder of the forum was centered around repeated human rights violations, namely the issues of forced disappearances in Thailand. Living for a struggle Den was a fighter all his life.
Since that day on April 16, 2016 there has been no sign of Den.
Born in 1951 in Udon Thani Province, he is remembered for not letting anything stop him. As a boy, he did not let the frequent flooding near his home stop him from getting to school: sometimes he would swim to school if necessary. After graduating from compulsory fourth grade, he picked up muay thai, or Thai boxing, occasionally winning five baht on a fight. The Communist Party of Thailand (CPT) extended their rebellion against the Thai state into the forested area in Udon Thani Province in the early 1970s. When Den joined them at age 22, he believed he was joining an organization that was pushing to create a more equitable society.
Pramote Pholpinyo of the Isaan Land Reform Network speaks about Den’s legacy at a memorial event on May 7 and 8, 2017 in Chaiyaphum Province. Two days later, Suphap, Khok Yao villagers, Phu Khiau Wildlife Sanctuary officers, and a team from the local administration formed a search party for Den, checking areas along his normal route, but found no evidence of any incident. Suphap, who goes by the nickname, Phap, contacted the police on April 18, 2016, but was told that the Royal Forestry Department (RFD) was responsible for reporting the case. Her attempts to have the RFD make a search were denied as the area was not
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
Like other young men his age, Den liked to go out, drink, and meet new people. He had first made contact with the CPT when he met individuals who had just left the forest the spread their organizational goals. When Den joined the CPT, he was given the alias Comrade Dao, or Star. Later, the name Ee Poom (Tadpole) was added on the end, because he liked to spend time catching tadpoles in the forest. From then on he went by the name Comrade Tadpole Star. From 1975 to 1977, he attended the communist movement’s political trainings in Laos and Cambodia. These training not only focused on political education, but also emphasized guerilla
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warfare tactics.
Land Reform Movement
His sister notes that after Den’s experience abroad, he seemed more calm and collected. He had been trained as a soldier, but he also gained skills in community organization that he would use throughout his life.
Khok Yao Village has only existed since 1954 but since that time, villagers have become fully rooted in the area. But over the past few decades, the community has been struggling against government policies that threatened the community’s livelihood.
The CPT moved Den to a forested area not far from Khok Yao. By 1977, half of the provinces in the country were considered “communist infiltrated” by the Thai government. However, with changing diplomatic relations with China, Vietnam, and Cambodia and intraorganizational disagreements, the CPT started to weaken. With the 1982 government order 65/2525, which offered amnesty to all CPT fighters, there was a massive defection between 1982 and 1983, including Den.
In the 1980s, the RFD started attempts to increase Thailand’s forest cover. Certain areas were designated as reserve forests or national parks. Since this land was officially “owned” and protected by the government, the RFD pushed for the eviction of people who had been living there before the new land designation.
Den never truly left the CPT struggle, but he did leave the forest to pursue a farming life. Even with his change in lifestyle, he still maintained a connection to the communist fighters and would sometimes spend days back in the forest. Many of Den’s friends and fellow CPT defectors settled in the Khok Yao area in the early 1980s, so Den started to spend time there as a paid laborer. After marrying Phap, he worked his stepfather’s land, growing red beans and corn.
But the people and their livelihoods were in the way. The first major threat to Khok Yao came with the 1985 government program entitled “Village Preserves Forest, People Preserve Animals.” The RFD planted eucalyptus trees on the land farmed by the villagers. These trees economically benefit the government, while drawing water out of the soil and thus degrading farmers’ land. Initially, the RFD tried to coax them off of their land. A RFD unit announced each displaced family would be given 15 rai (about six acres) of farmland and another two rai to build houses on, in an area 70 kilometers away. Families accepting the deal arrived to the new area only to discover the land promised was already being worked by other farmers. Discovering that even this poor consolation prize was deceitful made villagers even more distrustful of the government’s motives. Without any land to work on, many families splintered under financial and emotional pressure.
Led by Den’s sister, his CPT comrades sing a communist anthem in remembrance of their lost friend.
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
Meanwhile, villagers living and farming within the reserve forest were subject to threats and arrests. Often, their possessions and property were destroyed. Some families decided to move elsewhere, while a few families decided to stay and fight to gain the
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right to use the land. At this time, the Khok Yao community stabilized at around 30 households with 800 rai of land total. Den and Phap were amongst those who decided to stay.
working with the people’s network to fix the problems of Khok Yao village and making a living with his wife. Making a change
Some people were no longer able to work their land openly because the area was guarded by army rangers and RFD officers. Den worked as a rice farm laborer by day, and by night he sneaked back to plant crops while the eucalyptus trees were still young. In 2004, Den and other villagers joined the Isaan Land Reform Network (ILRN), an informal alliance of villagers, lawyers, reporters, and activists working towards land reform throughout Isaan. The ILRN gives villagers a greater sense of their rights in addition to increased knowledge of their land’s history. Den became the leader of the Khok Yao village group in 2008, making him responsible for funneling the needs of the community into policy proposals to the government. In July 2011, RFD officers and police arrested ten people from Khok Yao village, including Den and his wife, for trespassing reserve forest land. After 12 days in jail, they were released on bail with the help of an ILRN lawyer. Insecurity for villagers has worsened since a military dictatorship came into power in May 2014. In August of that year, RFD officers put up a sign in Khok Yao village giving villagers 15 days notice to move out their homes. The villagers protested against the order and eventually the eviction was postponed. But early last year, the forest resource management office in Nakhon Ratchasima sent a letter to Den’s family and other villagers. It declared that villagers officially had to relocate.
Den’s push for land reform in the Khok Yao area comprised most of his life. Even though the struggle for villager land rights continues to this day, Den was integral in organizing villagers and negotiating with government officials. The Khok Yao community considered Den great leader and his presence gave villagers stability in their unstable situations. Phap stated that Den’s greatest values were “his farm land, his life. Demanding the rights for the people. Even with no kids, he wants to make sure that the next generation has land to work on.” The drawback of being such a selfless leader was that Den took a lot of the struggle on himself. He was always willing to trade places for other people when going to meetings, even though he did not have much money to pay for the travel costs. Den wanted to make sure he was doing all he could to support the community. But years of struggling took a toll on Den’s will to fight. Before his disappearance he complained to his friend about how tired he was and that he was not sure he could go on.
The forums organizers raised funding by selling Tshirts, booklets that detail the events following Den’s disappearance.
Den appealed the order to the Minister of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment. Since that time, Den split his time in two ways: Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
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The government’s forced disappearance act At the forum in Chaiyaphum Province, his family, activists, lawyers, and academics honored the legacy of Den by recounting his early life while weaving in moments that reflected his humanity and exemplary leadership. Speakers also shared in hope, successes, and challenges in bringing justice for marginalized groups forced to relocate to accommodate large scale state projects.
The government needs to take swift and concrete action to enact a law that severely penalizes torture and enforced disappearance.” Zac Cooper is a student at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee where he studies human and organizational development. Caroline Van Buskirk is a child development major at Penn State University. Praveena Fernes is a public health student at Tulane University. The three are in Khon Kaen studying about development issues.
Behind each speaker at the forum is Den’s face, plastered three feet high on a memorial poster. He has become a larger-than-life figure for the land reform movement in the Northeast. Discussion at the forum also highlighted the danger activists face. What happened to Den has happened to other local activists. An Amnesty International report released earlier this year expressed concern, saying “Enforced disappearances continue to be reported and there has been no significant progress in investigations.” Another example of a recent forced disappearance was that of a prominent Karen land activist Porlajee Rakchongcharoen in 2014, also known as Billy. He had been working with Karen villagers who alleged that the local government offices were responsible for destroying and burning properties of more than 20 Karen families. Enforced disappearance cases are often underreported in Thailand, mostly due to a lack of sufficient forms of protection from retaliation against witnesses. According to Thai law, enforced disappearance is not a criminal offense, which is why it is imperative to raise awareness of this issue and shed more light on the suffering of those affected by it. Brad Adams, the Asia Director for Human Rights Watch, stated that, “The Thai government should finally ratify the disappearances convention and enact the criminal law needed to fully prosecute officials responsible for heinous crimes…After years of waiting, more promises are simply not enough. Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
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Lost then found: Finding kin in the Teochew people of Isaan Victoria Hong Lai “What are you?” “You wouldn’t know it.” “Tell me anyway.” “Teochew.” “Ah! Gaginang [our own people]!” Whenever I find another person who speaks Teochew, there’s always shared excitement. Teochews are impossible to find in the US, and finding someone that is Teochew is like finding a distant relative. (In some cases, this actually occurs). The volume of voices go up, the tea and food offerings come out, and warm feelings are felt all around. The Teochew people of China were scattered across different regions of Southeast Asia, making it difficult for some of us to find someone from the Teochew community. In fact, most of the Teochew population live outside of the Chaoshan region of China, the Southeast region where Teochews originated from. Five million of them, including their descendants, now reside in Thailand. Teochew people can also be found in other Southeast Asian countries like Singapore, Cambodia, Malaysia, Vietnam, and even East Asian countries like Korea. With so many of our people claiming different nationalities, the Teochew identity has transformed into a unique diasporic experience. With complex migration stories come complex identities. The Teochew identity is more of an explanation than a straightforward answer. For me, it is difficult to simply allow myself to identify solely as Chinese. Nowadays, the typical assumption of someone who is Chinese means someone who speaks Mandarin, or Cantonese, but we’re not.
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
I’ve seen, and personally experienced, how Teochew’s explanation of their identity gets shortened, then cut out entirely over time. Instead of attempting to explain any further, many American-Teochew peers and I would pick the more identifiable identity that captures to whom we feel closest. When our explanations aren’t fully understood, we’d be dismissed. Our identity would be dismissed. Eventually, we’ve learned to dismiss it ourselves for the sake of convenience, as well as for the sake of being accepted and understood by the other party.
My High School Graduation, 2014. Celebrating an accomplishment achieved as a First-Generation American-Teochew family. In the past I would state that I am Vietnamese, rather than “just Chinese.” By doing so, I’ve at least made the attempt to hold onto my family’s migration story. I believe that my family, and many Teochew people, have gone through too much to simply be “another Chinese person.” But many have grown so used to other identity labels that many have lost the essence that is our identity. Some of us
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only have the ability to speak the language and, if we’re lucky, the awareness that we are Teochew. I wanted to know more about the Teochew stories of Thailand. There’s much history with Teochew people. If that history’s not compelling within China, I believe that it’s compelling for the Teochew who had to venture out of China in order to survive. At the age of 13, my dad was incarcerated. His parents, my grandparents, owned a successful porcelain shop in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. To the government, their shop was “too successful.” This landed my dad, along with his parents, and five other siblings, in jail. With my dad being the youngest, he was released after two weeks. With my grandpa being the oldest, he was released after two years. After making his way to Paris to live as an “orphan” for a few years, my dad finally reunited with his parents and siblings in San Francisco, where I was born and raised.
I didn’t think too much of this story until I got older, and realized the hardships that my family had to overcome to get where they are today. I began to question the lives of those Teochews who didn’t make it to place of “American dreams.” I’d reflect and compare myself to my cousin in China, who is just days younger than me. At age 16, I entered my sophomore year of high school, while she entered her first year in the workforce. I came to Thailand not knowing what to expect when it came to encountering Teochew people. I didn’t expect to go any further than my occasional inquiries. Whenever I saw anyone that looked remotely Teochew, I would mention my identification as Teochew first, hoping that it would trigger them to say they were too. Usually, no matter how the word Teochew is pronounced, a Teochew person would immediately understand. In Isaan, I would get confused looks, only until I gave a distinct Thai pronunciation of Teochew –“Tae-jiew” — so locals could understand what I meant — sometimes. I would get a nod of understanding, and then the next words would be, “Ni hao, ma?” My hopes would diminish, as the person speaking to me had just spoken Mandarin to me, not Teochew. I persisted until my search paid off. “He’s an old Teochew man who owns an old restaurant,” says my study-abroad director, “All we know is that he speaks Tae-jiew.” Finally, I had found one.
Hua Khiew Wittayalai School in February 2017. The school built on land donated by a Teochew person, Ia-thai Sae-khwo, who wanted TeochewThai youth to continue to learn Teochew language and culture.
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
There is something about finding another Teochew person that is difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t fully, if at all, identify as Teochew. It is a wonderful feeling to experience finding one of your own with the awareness that your family, and their family, had traveled thousands of miles away from a small province we call the motherland, only to run into each other in a place that is ours, but at the same time, isn’t. Most of the time, Teochews will light up at the sound of another Teochew person. This phenomenon has been felt by myself and my
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American-Teochew peers in all the new Teochew encounters we’ve had. Once as a Teochew friend and I gossiped away in Teochew in hopes that no one else around us would understand, we heard a new voice in the background proclaiming: “Gaginang!” Forgetting the fact that we didn’t want anyone to understand what we were saying, we turned to welcome a younger girl approaching us with a big and curious smile on her face with open arms and a big embrace: “Wow! Little sister!” we replied. Whether it be a “Big sister!” “Little brother!” “Auntie!” or “Uncle!” — if you’re a Teochew; immediately, you become family. Before my arrival at the first encounter with the restaurant owner in Khon Kaen, I was nervous. Would I get the the same warm, familiar feelings in Thailand that I’m accustomed to getting back in the US from new Teochew encounters? Is this ThaiTeochew familiar with these feelings, or are new Teochew encounters, just another encounter? It was a dimly lit restaurant, but the smile that emerged from Uncle as he came into the room brightened the space in an instant. I ended up surrounded by not one, but three, Teochew people in my first successful encounter. None of us really knew why we were there, let alone what we’d get out of our “interview,” but the interest in one another’s reason for being there that day was present. With just a few generic questions to get the conversation flowing, we ended up having a twohour discussion that ranged from our own background stories to the history and identity of Teochews in Thailand, and even touched on Malaysian and Vietnamese Teochews. I came out of the gathering with warm feelings, three newfound uncles, and the utmost pride a young Teochew person could feel for her identity. After years of personal research on the internet, I found that there is little written history that can found about the history of our people. Teochew has no written language. Stories of our people’s Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
migration have been passed down orally. Like myself, the Teochew uncles I met here learned the history of our people from those before them. The details of our history have gradually been lost over time, and even lost to the younger generation whose primary language is no longer Teochew. The information that I obtained may not be entirely accurate, however, it is all that could be recovered about the Teochew migration and settlement in Thailand. Numerous Teochew people have been migrating to and settling in Thailand for many centuries — even the father of King Taksin the Great (reigned Siam in 1767-1782) was Teochew. Moving as a Teochew to Thailand was not an easy transition. Foreign-born Chinese people were barred from landowning, and from being civil servants. Chinese were required to have an alien registration enforced by the police. Chinese migrant workers had to pay fees to live in Thailand, and had to make sure that they were following all the procedures it took to become a naturalized Thai. While the older generation was working to obtain Thai citizenship, the younger generation was simply becoming Thai.
In the table of contents, “Uncle” looks up a word which has a few dozen homonyms. Around the World War II period, teaching “Chinese languages” in school was restricted by the order of then-Prime Minister Field Marshal Plaek Phibulsongkram, who feared Chinese power — and by extension, all Chinese cultural expression.
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The situation worsened after the establishment of People’s Republic of China in 1949, as US-allied Thai leaders sought to curb “communism.” In 1954, there were policies that actively suppressed Chinese people in Thailand. Language schools faced further restrictions and in some cases an outright ban, thus reducing literacy in Mandarin and Teochew among the younger generation. If there was discrimination towards Teochew, people weren’t fighting it. During this time, my father was fleeing to Paris while the rest of his family waited to be released out of jail one by one… This time may have been dangerous for anyone showing resistance, which may explain why no protests were made against the restrictions on Chinese language instruction.
asked me whether or not I could leave Thailand without meeting my blood relatives. However, I feel like I’ve already met my kin. For me, I found kinship in the Teochew people, my Uncles, who I met here in Isaan, Thailand, Southeast Asia.
Victoria Hong Lai studies Public Health and Health Equity at Mills College in Oakland, California in the United States. She has spent the last four months studying Community Public Health at Khon Kaen University.
Although Mandarin has been brought back to the schools in Thailand, Teochew is no longer seen as valuable enough to be taught. It can be mutually agreed upon amongst many of the Teochew that I’ve spoken to, including myself, that it’s sad that younger generations lose their Teochew identity. Many have chosen to identify with the larger, well-known identity. In Isaan, I didn’t meet any young people who identified themselves as Teochew, but I did meet people who said they had a Teochew grandpa. As for they themselves being Teochew? The thought of it didn’t seem to occur to them. I still find myself trying to find Teochew on my own. Whether it’s here in Isaan or anywhere else in the world, I know that the fire that is the Teochew pride will get smaller in the coming generations. At the same time, this experience was not a story of loss for me. I felt the same familiar warmth of the Teochews I’ve met, and for me I felt as though I were being welcomed to a relative’s home. It’s true that the fire is getting smaller, but it is still hot all the same. While learning about the Teochew of Isaan, I learned that I have relatives located in Bangkok. Many have Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017
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CIEE Advisor, Susan Pollis, spollis@ciee.org Resident Director, David Streckfuss, dstreckfuss@yahoo.com Assistant Resident Director, Arunee Sriruksa, aruneee@yahoo.com Field Studies Coordinator, John Mark Belardo, jmbelardo@gmail.com Visit us on the web, at: Website: http://study-abroad-blog-khon-kaen-dg.ciee.org/ Facebook CIEE Khon Kaen Twitter CIEE Khon Kaen Instagram #cieekhonkaen
Isaan Insider, Volume XIX, Issue II, Spring 2017