Violence will never define Isaan

Grappling with a massacre in a region where many have found peace.

In mourning the 36 victims of the October 6th massacre in Nong Bua Lamphu province, this post contains photos taken by myself and Chin Chongtong, an Isaan native, over our many trips to the region. These are not photos of any of the victims. Rather, each image shows something that the victims might have seen or done in their homeland, reflecting bits of what was stolen from them, but also what perseveres.

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A plate of som tam, half-eaten, sat on a bamboo table in the garden fronting a petite yellow preschool.

This was the image that tangled up my heart strings as I watched footage of the aftermath of the October 6th slaughter of 24 children, some as young as two, and at least 12 others at or near a public care center for toddlers in Uthai Sawan, a rural farming community in Thailand’s northeastern region, also known as Isaan.

Expressing the caring, warm-natured lifestyle of Isaan as suitably as any place, Uthai Sawan lies amid a sea of green composed of boundless rice paddies along with the occasional rubber farm, jungle-cloaked mountain or karst massif. I associate rural Isaan with peace, and I’ve often wandered there to find solace.

Anyone who has visited Isaan will have surely heard the rhythmic plunk plunk plunk of a wooden pestle tossing and bashing shards of green unripe papaya with lime juice, fermented fish sauce and fresh chili inside helmet-sized wooden mortars. At markets, street carts and front-stoop kitchens throughout the land, this unmistakable sound signals that the region’s staple dish is about to be relished.

Sharing som tam and other Isaan dishes appears to have been exactly what some of the first victims in Uthai Sawan were doing when they were killed.

“There were some staff eating lunch outside the nursery and the attacker parked his car and shot four of them,” a witness told AFP.

Som tam and its nourishing partner khao niao (sticky rice) are woven into the sense of peace that stirs inside me when visiting Isaan, or even daydreaming about it. Some part of me has been sadly dulled by the many mass shootings that have occurred in the US, and as an American, my reaction to the May massacre at a school in Uvalde, Texas, was more of anger and helplessness than sadness.

But Isaan is not Texas (or Connecticut or Colorado or …). Although Thailand has a high gun-homicide rate, I truly did not believe that a mass killing of children would ever happen there — and especially not in a place like Uthai Sawan.

In the image of the half-eaten plate of som tam I watched my notion of Isaan as a supremely peaceful place collide with the violent horror that has become insidious in America. Thai society cherishes children so much, celebrating them with an annual holiday and coddling them like miniature celebrities in public. That two dozen of these sacred, innocent lives could be destroyed indiscriminately in such a typically becalming place is not only shocking. It was unthinkable until now.

Without a doubt, two mass killings in three years have shaken Isaan’s sense of peace. (The other massacre happened in 2020 at a mall in Khorat where 29 were killed.) Without a doubt, hard questions will be asked concerning gun violence and, in particular, violence in Thailand’s powerful police and military institutions. (The Uthai Sawan killer was a former police officer, the Khorat killer was an active soldier, and there has been a steady drip of violence within Thai security forces.)

Yet I still see Isaan as one of the most peaceful places on earth. That peace is evident in the gentle people, the resting water buffalos and the broad rivers nourishing paddies that have kept bellies full for millennia. It’s present in the twilight markets that form on streets and by rivers as joy fills the faces of beloved children. I can hear that peace in the sound of som tam being plunked into existence.

The deranged acts of two men will never make Isaan represent violence or hatred. To me, it will always stand for peace.

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Note to recent subscribers: This is an unusual post owing to the Nong Bua Lamphu massacre, which prompted me to pause a hiatus and share my thoughts. The full newsletter, mainly covering Thai islands and beaches, is set to return in December.