Night Market

Rides, live music, games, giant stuffed animal prizes, and plenty of attractive things to buy have been added to the regular assortment of delicious snacks, fried chicken, fruit slushies, rice dishes, and ice cream on our side of town.  The special night market arrived this past week.  It could better be described as a small carnival or fair. 

Did I come to Thailand to go shopping or eat carnival food?  No.  But I did come as one who follows Christ.  As Christ lived life with his disciples, eating together, traveling together, so I live life with the students in the dorms.  The night market is part of that life.  We go there to get dinner, to meet a common need, but in the process we create memories. 

We are still laughing at the ferris wheel that went around forever and seemed like it was never going to let anyone off.    We are still laughing at K's "fried chicken" that turned out to be layers of sliced ham, breaded and fried.  These memories grow into deeper relationships, the kind of relationships where you can be honest with each other and ask the questions that really matter.

All these nights together showed their worth when K asked one of the other students about being a Christian.  God's hand in mapping out our evening was evident when an extra long dinner turned into being late for small group.  Being after dark, this required K to walk the girls to the meeting, then he joined us for the last half of our time together.  Coincidence?  Not at all.

Here are some fun pictures from the night market:

Fried bugs (grasshoppers, beetles, silk worms, etc.)

Brandon eating a fried grasshopper

 This is a slightly sweet, crisp flat bred made from rice flour.  It starts as a circle the size of my hand then as it is cooked over hot coals and tossed back and forth with three tonged flippers it grows to about 16 inches across.

  K buying "fried chicken"

Substitute Teacher

The dorm English class teacher was in Laos renewing her visa, and the substitute teacher was no where to be found, so being the only native English speaker around, I was elected to teach class...10 minutes after it was supposed to begin.  So much for prep time.  Luckily I've had enough experience to wing it.

Up to my room I ran to grab Banana Grams, a game made up of letter tiles.  The 9 students worked in groups of three to make words in English from the pile of letters I gave them.  Then each student had to share a sentence using one of the words their group made.  It was fun, killed time, and gave me an idea of the students' English level.

After a few rounds of "Make English Words in Groups," I asked the students what they wanted to review.  "Transitive Verbs" W said timidly.  Transitive verbs...What's a transitive verb?  I wondered.  Trying not to look like I've never studied English before in my life, I asked for an example.  Who's teaching who English?

"Sing, sang, sung."  One of the girls responded in a rote, sing-songy voice.
"Okay, so you want to review verbs in the past, present, and future."  Using the white board, we studied went, go, will go; had, have, will have; danced, dance, will dance; etc. From there, T asked the question that made me realize why English is so challenging, "When do you use have and when do you use has?"  We talked about which subjects have must be used with and which subjects has must be used with.  Hopefully I didn't leave them more confused than when they arrived.

An hour and a half after I was given the surprise teacher label, we had all learned a little more English, laughed at silly sentences, been challenged with new vocabulary, and gotten to know each other better.  As the students said goodbye, I silently prayed for them.  Most of the students I've met who know Christ now, were first introduced to Him through relationships built out of coming to an English class.  There's something about meeting that felt need in a loving, accepting, Christ-like way, that draws students to want to know more.

The Noisiest Thunderstorm Yet

 Photograph by Michael K. Nichols

Less than a second after I saw the lightning light up my dark wall, the whole building physically shook with the pound of thunder.  I wasn't going to let this display of God's creation pass me by, so out of bed I climbed, found my glasses and headed up the stairs. 

On the roof I enjoyed standing in awe of a mighty orchestra of God's glory.  The lightning so bright at times that I couldn't look directly at it, and the thunder so thick it seemed to shake the air.  It was as close as I can imagine to Moses on the mountaintop. 

From this stage I couldn't keep myself from worshiping.  Songs flowed from a heart in awe and love of our mighty Creator until my throat was raw and then some more.  Flowing from worship, my prayers for this country began.  For the king, queen, and royal family; for the members of parliament and their families, leaders in each province and their families, others in government and authority and their families.  For the businessmen, shop owners, street vendors and their families.  For the tourists, prostitutes, sea gypsies, lady boys, and their families.  For those in the villages and those in the cities.  For those in the north, south, east, west, and those abroad.  For the university students, high school students, elementary school students, kindergartners, preschoolers, babies, and their parents, siblings, grandparents and extended family.

I prayed that all those who felt the rain, all the households the rain touched, would know the name of Christ personally in the next five to ten years.  That this generation would be a breakthrough, this generation would be the one to change this Buddhist nation. I prayed that the next time it rains like this I wouldn't be the only one on my roof standing in awe of the Creator and his creation.

Photograph by William R. Curstinger

Som-o

P and I sat, it what appeared to be the middle of a swamp.  We walked across a few rickety bamboo poles to the hut in the middle of the green water.  Am I still in Bangkok?  I wondered.  This was the place she decided we would enjoy our Som-o. 

A som-o is a large citric fruit, bigger than a grapefruit with thick, green bumpy skin.  We talked as P taught me to peel the fruit, cut off the rind, and dig through its thick white inner covering to its juicy sweet/tart fruit in the middle.  I used as many Thai words as I could, and she taught me new ones throughout the evening.  With every word she was so patient while I asked her to repeat it so I could write it in my notebook.  We talked about everything from snow in America to pizza in Thailand.  From husbands (or the lack there of) to family and the church her uncle pastors. 

Eventually conversation turned to the inner workings of our hearts.  P's heart for her country to know Christ inspired me.  She was well aware that most people here have never heard of Jesus Christ.  Her prayers ranged from the king, and the other leaders in the country, to Thais in the small villages, and students in Bangkok.  She fasts and prays for the believers that do exist, and the ones God will be calling to know him soon.

To say it in a few words, I was challenged. 

Banana Pancakes

 

 I started out on a mission to make banana bread this past week.  A friend and I bought bananas at the fruit market and eggs from the egg lady (I only needed two but we couldn't buy fewer than 5, so 5 we bought.)  At another store we purchased oil, flour, and sugar (in little packets for coffee, to get 3/4 cup I think I used 47 of them.)  Grandma sent me with baking soda, so I didn't have to figure out which stand sells that. 

I didn't realize that the beginning of my adventure had been the easy part until I started inspecting the oven in the dorm common area.  From a distance, it looks decent, but when I asked one of the girls about using it, she looked uncertain.  At first she said, "No."  But my disappointed face must have made her think about it a second time.  In broken English she tried to explain, "You can use, but Celsius no good."  I took this to mean the temperature gauge was off.  But I had come this far, and I wasn't going to give up yet. 

The girls watched as I mixed together the ingredients, mashed the banana, and sprinkled in some strange powder out of an orange box.  They examined the box, especially the back panel which showed uses for cleaning.  "For cleaning?" They asked, looking confused.  I explained as well as I could that baking soda could be used for cleaning, but it is also used to make bread rise (hands moving to show the small dough getting bigger.)  Satisfied enough with the answer, they watched as I oiled the pan, poured in the batter, and stuck it in the oven.

We chatted as we waited, but after a while I had a feeling that the baking was not going well.  A closer inspection revealed the flame at the bottom of the oven was out.  How long had it been out?  What now?  My dazzling thoughts of inviting students to come and learn to cook American foods, how wonderful everything would taste, and how happy everyone would be were quickly crumbling.

With a smile on my face, I pulled out the pan full of batter only slightly warm to the touch.  "We will make Banana Pancakes instead!" 

And so we did.