The Healthy Heart of Organic Farming

Kaitlin Muench
Thailand
One organic coconut – 5 baht. One head of organic lettuce – 7 baht. A kilo of organic Hom Mali rice – 28 baht*. Knowing that his family is healthy – priceless. Fifteen years ago, Som Sanomsuk, an organic farmer in Donlaeng Tai, a village in Surin province in northeastern Thailand, did the unthinkable in the farming profession – he lowered his yield. Most people thought he was crazy, Som recalls with a smile. “I’m not crazy,” he chuckles, “I’m better off now than I ever was before.”

In 1992, Som and twelve of his fellow villagers abandoned chemical fertilizers in favor of organic farming. Organic farming is much more labor intensive and often produces lower annual yields. The switch to organic is difficult and requires training. Furthermore, organic certification requires two to three years, a lengthy process that many farmers cannot financially survive.

Som sees the situation differently. “I don’t think of [the switch from chemical to organic farming] as a struggle, its more like exercising – we are becoming body builders.” He goes on to explain that despite the intense manual labor required to be a successful organic farmer, he knows that the benefits of going organic outweigh the difficulties.

Som and other villagers saw firsthand the destruction chemical farming was causing to the soil and the local community. “We realized,” explains fellow organic farmer Toma Brinying, “that before chemical fertilizer, the land and the crops and the people were healthier.” Som’s village is part of a growing movements towards organic farming in northeastern Thailand. It is the center of an organic agriculture support network that promotes organic farming through a weekly Green Market in Surin city and with the help of Surin Farmer Support, a local non-governmental organization.

Yet, Som and his fellow organic farmers face an uphill battle. Despite boasting itself as the “organic province of Thailand,” only 1% of farmland in Surin is organic. Many chemical farmers “don’t believe us. They still use chemical fertilizers because they haven’t felt the effects [of the chemicals] directly yet” laments Som. Often, wind blows chemicals from other fields over Som’s rice and vegetables, ruining the organic crop for that season.

Government campaigns to promote organic farming are often ineffective. “Many community leaders still use chemical fertilizer and argue that they have the right to do what they want on their lands because otherwise they can’t reach expected yields,” explains Toma. However, clarifies Som, the decrease in yield is only short term. Yields decrease for the first two to three years during organic training and certifi cation, “yet we are back to over 90% of our previous yields now,” he proudly states.

Som’s village vows to continue to promote organic farming. “We won’t stop now; we want to expand our agriculture support network because we want people to be aware of the environment and have longterm health security for our communities.”

It’s about 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday and the weekly Green Market in Surin City is about to close. Som’s stand is nearly sold out. His net profit that morning? About 200 baht from coconuts, vegetables and rice. “Price,” he explains, “is less important than the long-term environmental effects of chemicals.” Now that’s something to sink your teeth into.

*Note: 1 USD = 30 baht

(Republished from Wao Saa Saa - the CIEE-Thailand student newsletter)

Conservation Club Fights the Naga

Sadie Beauregard
Thailand
There was once a city that floated in the middle of Nong Han (Han lake), in present-day Udorn Thani Province. To this city came a young Naga prince, disguising his snake-like body as a white squirrel to win the heart of a beautiful princess. Everyone in the land loved the beautiful princess and wanted her for their own. One day, as the Naga prince sat watching the princess, he was shot with an arrow. Before he died, he made his flesh delicious and cursed anyone who ate it. In a messy fight for the princess, the city sank to the bottom of Nong Han.

These days, villagers in southern Udorn Thani province compare Italian-Thai Development Plc (ITD) to the Naga prince that destroyed a city, and the beautiful princess to the potash that everyone wants. The company, a Thai conglomerate, has been trying to build a potash mine in the area for years. The company believes that the potash, a necessary input to make chemical fertilizer, will lead to cheaper, domestically produced fertilizer.

In this legend, the people were helpless to the curse of the Naga. The fight was decided before it was over. How can mere mortals combat the power of a magical Naga? These days, the villagers of the Udon Thani Environmental Conservation Club are challenging the contemporary power structure that allows companies like ITD to thrive. Although less powerful in terms of money and capital, through collective organizing the villagers are working to battle the proposed potash mine. By building leaders in their communities, pressuring the government to investigate the impacts of the proposed mine further, and instilling an appreciation for local wisdom and culture in their children, the villagers are dedicated to changing the relations of power that have been imposed upon them.

The Conservation Club was formed in 2001 when a small Isaan NGO, called the Salt Study Group, notified the villagers of the proposed potash mine being pushed by Asian Pacific Potash Corp (APPC) and ITD. From its inception, the Conservation Club has noted the corporate power structure and has worked to combat it. NGO staff Naowarat Daoreung is from Udon Thani and lives in the communities with whom she works. She began organizing communities by talking with their members and hearing what was important to the each community. NGOs like Naowarat do not work above the villagers, but with them. Community leaders develop skills as community members themselves send letters to the government, run meetings, meet with the mayor, and analyze documents. Villagers and the NGO staff are one as they “learn together, find solutions together, and move forward together,” according to a villager in the area.

The Conservation Club survives because of its multiple leaders. In the four different sub-districts of the affected area, there are leaders from each village. These villagers are in stalwart opposition of the mine. They lead their communities with weekly meetings to maintain strength and unity. Their power is of people and community, not money. As club vice president, Manee Boonrod, states “I would not take money if they offered it to me. I have never had a million baht. If you must give me that money, also bring a coffin so I can die right there”. Core leaders also work to get undecided or “neutral” community members involved in actively opposing the mine. Through leading their communities, learning about the issues, and becoming educated and informed on the process of the mine, villagers are asserting their collective power. By doing so they are challenging the information generally handed down from the government above. In their challenges they are more than individual villagers. Instead, they are a collective force demanding to be heard.

The Iron Ladies compose another outlet of leadership in the Conservation Club. Mothers and grandmothers comprise the Iron Ladies giving a collective women’s voice to the movement. In 2004, they rushed three hundred of then Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s guards to deliver their protest letter of the mine. These women are often the leaders of their families, especially since their husbands and children have moved away in recent years to find work. Even with family members far away, the Iron Ladies band together in defense of their land and way of life. Like the other core leaders of the Conservation Club, these women would give their lives for their land. “They say we cannot fight against the power of money” says Sunee Puedpakwan, “but we will fight anyway. We will fight for our well beings and our lives. We will fight until we die”.

Through their collective voices the Iron Ladies are also challenging the relations of power that have been laid out before them. Using their collective power, the Conservation Club has been working to pressure the government to oppose ITD’s potash mine proposal. Through meetings with government officials, letters, petitions, and protests they are pressuring the government to hear their opposition. Due to protests in 2002, which included a list of five thousand project opponents submitted by the Conservation Club, Minister of Natural Resources and Environment Praphat Panyachartrak called for a new environmental impact assessment (EIA). The mine was further delayed when a new EIA was declared “unacceptable” by academics. The Minerals Act 2002, which allowed mining without landowner permission at a hundred meters or more below the surface, was a massive blow to community and individual rights. Yet despite its negative impacts, the government has responded to pressure from the Conservation Club. When questioned as to why the mine has yet to be approved, a Ministry of Mining and Industry representative stated, “in order for the project to start we must be a hundred percent sure of the effects that will follow…including environmental, health, culture, tradition, economics and community”. This response seems to be directly related to the demands of the Conservation Club. Also, the Conservation Club's opposition to focus groups determined by the provincial government suggests that the villagers are demanding power on their terms.

In addition to building leaders in their communities and pressuring the government to act for the people, the Conservation Club is striving to instill the importance of local wisdom and an appreciation for community, culture, and tradition in their children. As well as a Youth Club, there is the “School of People who Love Their Local Communities.” This is a six month long program that celebrates local wisdom and gives children a reason to feel invested in their community. By building up appreciation of local culture and local wisdom, villagers are leaving the younger generation with an “understanding of their roots,” as a local villager attests. Through this school, villagers are also challenging the dynamics of power, which state that science and technology are more important than local wisdom. If children are to value the culture, wisdom and tradition of their parents, they must feel ownership and pride in their land and way of life. This appreciation of local culture extends to other Conservation Club events as well. By incorporating traditional ceremonies in their campaigns, the Conservation Club is actively “affirming traditional culture” (Potash Working Group of ENGAGE, 2003). Through these methods villagers are striving to protect their way of life.

“The company is using Thais to kill Thais” states Manee Boonrod, “but they don’t dare to come and fight. Their weapon is the conflict and the money. They use it to protect themselves.” Like the Naga prince and the beautiful princess, money and magic is often able to overcome people in a drive for treasure. However, the Udon Thani Environmental Conservation Club has been combining their collective voices to alter this relation of power. By developing leaders in their communities, collectively pressuring the government, and emphasizing the importance of local wisdom and culture they are reaching out to shake up the corporate power structure; they are demanding their voices be heard. They are joining hands to say “If we don’t die, we will win.”

From Farm to Plastic Bag: Papaya Salad Loses Its Locality

Corinne Kisner
Thailand
Every morning at 4 AM, long before her customers are hungry, Matyuree, 46, can be found browsing the markets of Khon Kaen in northeastern Thailand for perfect produce. Wearing a grey t-shirt with the slogan “College girls have all the fun,” Matyuree rattles through her morning shopping list: chili peppers, sugar, lime, MSG, tomato, shredded papaya, fermented fish and tamarinds. When asked what flavor MSG adds, Matyuree smiles from under her white conductor’s cap. “Arroy (delicious)!”

She earns her living selling som tam, a Thai papaya salad traditionally prepared with homegrown vegetables from the family farm. However, most Thais no longer grow papayas and ferment their own fish. Instead, urbanites rely on individuals like Matyuree to put traditional dishes in plastic bags.

This disconnect from meal preparation means that fewer people understand the origins of their food. Consumers may intuitively associate the vendor with production, but few vegetable merchants have a hand in the farming. In fact, the chain from producer to consumer is riddled with middlemen, shifting hundreds of kilograms of papayas and limes.

“I just sit here and make a phone call,” explains a woman in a beach chair at the wholesale market, her voice emerging from a sea of unripe bananas, red chili peppers, and shrink-wrapped papayas. She buys chilies from middlemen for 23 baht per kilo and sells them to market vendors for 25 baht a kilo. Her knowledge of the peppers’ origin is as sparse as the consumer’s.

Another woman wearing Converse sneakers and cuffed jeans perches alone on a blue plastic crate while men drink rice whiskey and gamble behind her. She buys papayas directly from farmers in villages 400 kilometers away. “The soil is bad here for growing papayas,” she notes. She pays drivers 5000 baht (150 USD) roundtrip to deliver papayas, and pays 2000 baht (60 USD) a month to rent her space in the market. For every kilo of papayas she moves, she earns one baht.

Some vendors at the wholesale market are more invested in the produce’s transport path. Lakara, 40, has been selling limes for 21 years, and knows by looking at an unmarked sack of limes where they were grown. Today she sits in a lawn chair wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, jotting quick calculations in her notebook. “On a good day, during a festival, I can sell 500 sacks of limes,” she says.

Lakara owns three pickup trucks and hires several drivers to make the 1600 kilometer round trip to collect limes from central Thailand. “I buy directly from several villages,” she says, and her clientele consists of people from all over the Northeast. “I have regular customers, but still, competition from six other lime salesmen is my biggest challenge.”

Although Lakara has only been to the lime farms once, she keeps busy at the wholesale market. “I work from 3 am to 6 pm every day. Selling limes is a big headache.” She smiles at her connection to the som tam sold in restaurants. “I prefer som tam Thai with crab and extra lime.”

Despite the loss in locality of a traditional dish, Matyuree maintains the homemade touch in her restaurant by boiling tamarinds and fermenting fish every morning. She has acquired tricks over the years and never measures the ingredients. “Nobody taught me to make som tam. I learned on my own,” she says. With a reliance on pre-bagged meals, future urban generations may have to teach themselves too.

The Disconnect of Food

Anna Yalouris
Thailand
Thailand is one of the largest global exporters of rice - the staple food for more than half the world’s population. However, less than 50 years into the business of feeding the world, the strain on Thailand’s resources threatens environmental exhaustion and social unrest.

In the late 1960s Thailand’s agricultural production shifted focus from a local to a global market. Thousands of rice specimens were initially examined for hardiness and export versatility before Jasmine 105 was determined the model strand. Jasmine 105, the species that would supply the void in the global export market, would soon be implemented as the new standard grain of production for Thai farmers.

Surin, a province in northeastern Thailand, was once home to thousands of indigenous rice strands, unique to the region. In the great shift to contend in a global market, the people of Surin lost more than just the rice biodiversity of the region. They lost ownership of age-old cultural practices inextricably linked to the indigenous grains of rice. They lost the ability to pass on these practices and gained a culture of mono-cropping, aimed at feeding a global demand.

There are those, like Nok and Than, NGOs at Rice Fund Surin- Organic Agriculture Cooperative, Ltd. who are actively seeking to take back ownership of the food they eat. The Rice Fund was established in 1992 by a Surin Natural Farming Group looking for a market in which they could sell their products and receive fair prices. Many farmers have found themselves in great debt after investing in chemical fertilizers promoted by the government, but as Than explains, money is not the heart and soul of the Rice Fund. “Fair trade is good, but if farmers only hope to get more money from fair trade, it is not enough to strengthen family and community.”

Indeed, strengthening community and promoting self sufficiency is a major pillar of the Rice Fund. Small farmers looking to reconcile traditional farming methods can find a supportive network that now boasts close to 600 member families. This support system helps farmers in the transition back to integrated agriculture and producing for the family, while not leaving the market completely behind.

Nok laments that when farmers gave up their traditional practices of planting a variety of crops in favor of the single, highly exportable Jasmine 105, they gave up a part of their identity. In addition to the loss of specific cultural practices that accompanied certain indigenous strands of rice, a great disconnect has since formed between the consumer and the origin of their food.

Even the organic rice milled at Rice Fund Surin will sometimes travel thousands of miles, to Europe or the USA before it finds a viable market. The fair trade icon marks the package like a right of passage certifying "yes, this is 100 percent organically grown Jasmine rice from Thailand." But, it does not tell the whole story. As Nok explains, “when you see food on the table, you don’t see the struggle of all the farmers who have been oppressed.”

Efforts of NGOs like Nok and Than have help farmers reclaim ownership over the food they produce and have paved the way for an eventual reunion of producer and consumer. But Thailand is not yet there. “Food comes from farmers but farmers now occupy a small role in the background,” says Nok. “Companies own food. Food and nature have been separated in the modern world.”

Send Kovit to America

This short film was made by and for ENGAGErs on behalf of our dear friend, colleague, and mentor Kovit Boonjear.

This film was created as a way for Kovit to communicate with his friends in the States about his potential exchange trip to the US and what it would mean for him and his work in Thailand.

The creators of this film hope that it will inspire ENGAGE members to get involved and strengthen the effort to make this trip possible.

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Kovit Boonjear has been a mentor for the CIEE-Thailand program for many years, serving as a link between students and local people's movements, particularly the urban poor. He is planning to do a study trip to the States to further develop his skills and gain new experiences in his field. He is hoping to work with social activists, grassroots leaders, community organizations,educators, and students to learn more about the movements in the US to bring back and apply to his work in NE Thailand.

World Wetlands Day: A Celebration of Local Knowledge

Vanessa Moll and Stephanie Teatro
Thailand
An old woman surrounded by friends and family sits with her legs slightly apart. Her left arm is hidden inside a light grey, urn-shaped piece of pottery, which she holds between her legs. With her right hand, she uses a long, thin wooden paddle to shape the clay.

On-looking students watch and take notes. They are taking in ancient, local knowledge. For the clay that the woman is shaping is the same type that villagers have gathered for generations from the wetlands surrounding the Mun River.

The students came, “and they received all the local knowledge, like pottery, which is barely seen nowadays,” said Mr. Pradit Norasarn. Mr. Pradit was one of many villagers that came to the Rasi Salai District Office on February 5th for Rasi Salai’s first ever World Wetlands Day celebration.

Globally, World Wetlands Day is celebrated annually to commemorate the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands signed in 1971 in Ramsar, Iran. This convention provides a “framework for national action and international cooperation for the conservation and wise use of wetlands and their resources.”

At Rasi Salai villagers from Sisaket, Surin, and Ubon Ratchatani provinces joined school children, various NGOs, representatives from community organizations, and local and provincial government officials in order to discuss and celebrate the past, present, and future of the Mun River and its surrounding wetlands.

Villagers living off the Mun River have struggled to hold onto their livelihoods and culture in the face of large-scale development projects, which have often led to drastic changes in the river’s watershed.

“I think this is the first step of the work between the state, the villagers, school, and NGOs to raise awareness of the wetland along the Mun River. Every party got to come and exchange their ideas; children got a chance to come and study outside of class, and adults got to see the activities done by children,” said Sodsai Sangsok from the Network of the Mun River Community.

Villagers in Rasi Salai set up photo galleries with pictures of themselves smiling and holding fish that went from above their waists down to their feet. Other photos caught fishermen in action, casting reed nets twice the length of most human beings. At booths lining the lot outside the District Office, villagers sold and gave away herbal medicines and teas, rice and potatoes, and other vegetables they had gathered in the wetlands; one group taught traditional methods of boiling salt.

In the afternoon, led by students from Rasi Salai Elementary School tooting horns and tapping drums, villagers marched through the city streets, holding banners declaring the crucial role of the wetlands. “Wetland, womb of the Mun River, kidney of the land,” they said.

Organizers of the festival originally anticipated 100-200 people to attend the day’s activities, but Mr. Pradit Kosol, a representative of the Assembly of the Poor in Rasi Salai, smiled proudly and reported that 600-700 people had actually come. “I’m very happy; people are interested in the way of life [in the wetlands],” said Mr. Pradit, “We should continue this every year.”

Mae Thong - Mother, Scavenger, Community Organizer

Dylan Cook
Thailand
At night, before tucking her two boys into bed, Mae (Mother) Thong sits them down for a serious talk. She makes sure they have their homework done and reminds them of the importance of school. She then jumps down on her boys’ bed, a thin mattress on the floor, and smothers them with motherly affection, tossing their hair and ignoring their protests.

Although she only attended formal school until second grade, Mae Thong believes strongly in education. “I don’t know how to read and write,” she says, “but I don’t want my kids to be like me...I tell them to study hard so they won’t have a hard time like their parents.”

Mae Thong has moved in and out of Khambon Village, in the outskirts of Khon Kaen city, since she was seven years old. She followed work to Bangkok twice, before permanently settling next to the village with her new family. Mae Thong is a mother of two, a wonderful cook, and her community’s accountant.

Khambon village flanks a ninety-eight rai landfill twenty kilometers north of Khon Kaen City, a major development center and the heart of Northeast Thailand. The stench in Khambon is potent, overwhelming at times. Rotten food putrefies in mass. Pools of toxic runoff stagnate in outdated drains. An adjacent Danish-built incinerator burns noxious medical waste.

The few hundred community members of Khambon are aware of their situation, aware of the hazardous and unflattering living conditions.

Yet the landfill provides an indispensable livelihood. Khambon villagers are scavengers – informal workers that spend day and night combing the landfill’s refuse for recyclable materials.

In spite of their circumstances, Khambon community members seem happy. Every glance exchanged is accompanied with a wide smile. The smallest joke yields ten-minute romps of laughter.

The scavengers are happy, but not content. Recently the villagers began to organize. They want clean water, social security, and social welfare. They want to be recognized by the government, at least as informal laborers.

“Whether people are rich or poor, they are still people,” says Mae Thong. She, along with three other village leaders, has been working tirelessly for the past few years to focus her community’s energy and strengthen its voice.

Mae Thong is a true community leader. She believes in the power of individuals to confront and overcome the challenges of their present situation. This belief motivates her current activities and renders inspiration in community members.

A constant stream of people flow in and out of Mae Thong’s home. Friends ask advice, repay loans, or come for the good company. She speaks to everyone with an innocent smile on her face and eagerness in her voice. “Maa gin khao,” she shouts to passerbys, inviting them to eat with her.

In the past ten years, Khambon scavenger wages have decreased exponentially, from 800 Baht per day to the current 100 Baht per day wage.

Despite their meager wages and thanks to the “One-Baht-a-Day” program, an emergency fund recently started by Mae Thong, Khombon villagers have saved a staggering seven-thousand Baht in eight months. As of now, thirty-four villagers have joined the program. Members receive financial aid when they are too sick to work, pregnant, or in need of a loan.

Mae Thong and other community leaders have high hopes for the future. Presently, they are working towards a network of scavenging communities in the Khon Kaen area. In the long term, they hope to become part of an international network of scavengers.

Khambon Community, with the help of leaders such as Mae Thong, is fighting for new life. When asked about the future of Khambon, Mae Thong replies with a spark of determination in her eye. “Dii maak! (very good!)”

Is it Really About Border Security?

Stephanie Teatro
Thailand
The Council for National Security (CNS) recently announced that it will propose the lifting of martial law in 11 provinces prior to December’s election. But its decision to reinstate martial law in three northeastern provinces has critics concerned that the junta is using martial law as a tool to suppress political opposition.

Following last September’s coup against Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, all 76 of the nation’s provinces were placed under martial law. Of these, 35 provinces have remained under martial law throughout the year and throughout August’s referendum process.

Of Isaan’s 19 provinces, 13 had cast their votes while under martial law and 17 voted to reject the charter. Nationally, 68% of “no-votes” came from Isaan. The northeastern provinces of Nakhon Phanom, Roi Et, Mukdahan, and Nong Khai had the first, second, third, and fourth highest percentages of no votes in the nation, respectively.

The CNS recently announced that it will lift martial law in 11 provinces, including Roi Et, while reimposing the law in Nakhon Phanom, Mukdahan, and Nong Khai in the name of “border security”.
CNS has said that martial law will remain in force in the 27 provinces along the country’s borders, at least through December’s election. “This move is not aimed at obstructing political activities,” claims CNS, but rather, “to ensure national security.” Cross-border crimes have been cited as justification for maintaining martial law.

Some critics have commented that the government’s emphasis on “border security” is just another strategy to assert pressure on provinces that have shown a lack of support for the CNS and its policies. Although the decision to put these three provinces under martial law is in the name of border security, three of the provinces where martial law will be lifted are also border provinces—Ratchaburi, Prachuab Khiri Khan, and Phetchaburi. Each of these three provinces voted to approve the charter by more than 70%. Perhaps border security is less of an issue in these provinces, but critics wonder if their overwhelming support for the charter has earned them less scrutiny.

The Asian Human Rights Commission insists that “the only possibility for any democratic process in Thailand will be through the complete lifting of the martial law from across the country.”

(Republished from the Isaan Bizweek)

School and Community Unite

Kelly Kirkpatrick and Sasha Gross
Thailand
At 7 am, eight-year old twins, Gott and Golf, leave their house in Samaki Patana Community and set out for Nong Wang Elementary School in Khon Kaen. They navigate down a muddy road, scarred with deep potholes. They pay no notice to free-roaming fowl and the deafening approach of an oncoming train. The twins like going to school. “Sometimes they are upset or cry when they don’t get to go,” says Pian, the twins’ grandmother.

One year ago, this morning routine would not have been so typical.

Most of the 272 students at the twins’ school reside in surrounding slum communities near the railroad tracks. With poverty a common fixture in the families of most students, getting the kids to school is not always an option for parents.

Teachers and administrators at Nong Wang realized they had a problem when students weren’t showing up for school. “Originally it started with concern over students’ absences,” says Ajaan Chutiton Huttapanon, a third-grade English teacher at Nong Wang. When the teachers started to question students, they received explanations like, “yesterday it was raining and I had no dry uniform to wear to school.”

With support from Nong Wang’s Deputy Director Boontham Boranmoon, the 24 teachers at Nong Wang devised the “Visiting Homes Project” to investigate the living situation of each student. “We thought there might be some other issues in the community to look into deeper,” said Ajaan Jittima Srivilat, a long-time English teacher at Nong Wang.

Split into seven teams and armed with gifts, resolve, and concern, the teachers try to visit every student’s home. On these visits the teachers listen to stories like that of Gott and Golf whose father left them when they were six, and whose mother left them with their grandparents. “Their father doesn’t send any money, and last year we didn’t have any money for school books,” said Mrs. Pian.

In an effort to address these issues and others they observe, the teachers created “The Fund for Goodness” in late 2006. The fund was put together through personal donations, fundraising and, later, the support of the municipality.

The goal of the fund is to provide a venue for wealthier individuals to give back to the community and directly effect change in students at Nong Wang. The fund, say Ajaan Jittima, has “helped to encourage [those donors], who have the ability to help those students, to work together.”

In just the past year, the fund has impacted the lives of twenty-three students who now enjoy regular meals at school, a textbook lending program, encouragement, and funds to continue their education beyond Nong Wang. After elementary school graduation, teachers will continue to track the progress of their students.

For Gott and Golf, the fund has provided math textbooks, uniforms, and other items of clothing. Additionally, teachers from Nong Wang check in on the boys regularly. Mrs. Pian said that the teachers told her that if she ever needed anything she could go to the school. “I think the school really plays an important role [in this community]. I really want [the twins] to have a good education in case my husband and I are not around.”

Gott and Golf’s story demonstrates how the relationship between teachers, students, and their families has little to do with money, and everything to do with community. The former boundaries between school and community have dissolved, and in their place a partnership has formed.

As Ajaan Jittima puts it, “This school aims to help community. The community and the school are one, united.”

(Republished from Isaan Bizweek)

Students at Khon Kaen University Embark on Human Rights Initiative

Alyssa Boente, Emily Galey, and Anne Sheldon
Thailand
With human rights gaining attention throughout Thailand, 30 Khon Kaen University students have joined a new initiative to report on the status of human rights in ten Isaan communities. They will use the Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ESCR) framework, derived from the United Nations’ International Covenant on ESCR.

“There is a gap in the distribution of knowledge on this campus, and there is a need to generate information on [human rights] issues,” said Patsara Patangwesa, a fourth year Community Development KKU student involved with the KKU Human Rights Report Project.

157 nations have signed and ratified the covenant to promote universal human rights such as those to food, clothing, housing, health, and education. Although Thailand ratified the covenant in 1999, ESCR violations continue in many Thai communities.

“ESCR became one of the key concerns of the National Human Rights Commission of Thailand recently,” said Mr. Boontan Tansuthepveeravong, director of Amnesty International Thailand and an active member of Thailand’s ESCR-Network.

Mr. Boontan attended the Participatory Seminar for the ESCR Network in Ayutthaya on the weekend of September 14. Groups such as the National Human Rights Commission of Thailand, Amnesty International, human rights NGOs, and communities from throughout Thailand whose ESCR have been violated gathered at the seminar to examine how ESCR apply to their issues and to build solidarity against ESCR violations.

The same weekend, students from the faculties of Thai Language, Community Development, Public Administration, and Law went to their first day of ESCR training at Khon Kaen University.

While their peers vacation during the October break, these select students will volunteer their time to exchange with local villagers in Isaan communities. They will conduct field studies to assess potential ESCR violations. “This project is important for all regions of Thailand. People throughout Thailand need to recognize and understand human rights,” said Rungrot Wanpen, a third year student from the Faculty of Thai Language.

In conjunction with the KKU faculties of Law and Humanities, the Council on International Educational Exchange, NGO-Cord, and the People’s Network of Isaan, the students will use their newly-acquired knowledge to draft human rights reports with communities. This collective effort to understand ESCR and create the reports will strongly encourage and support communities as they strive to attain fundamental rights.

Students will work with villagers affected by dams, mining, HIV/AIDS, and rural and urban issues. Connecting with local communities directly affected by these issues will allow students to help bring local issues to the national level.

“This is the next step forward in implementing and promoting human rights on the grassroots level,” said Adisak Kaewrakmuk, an advisor to the project from the Council on International Educational Exchange.

“It’s important that [villagers involved] understand the issue and that they take part in writing their own story…I do not look at the output but the process to enhance it to its entire capacity,” said Boontan, referring to the KKU initiative.

“Villagers don’t know their own powers. They can fight for their own rights, represent themselves,” said Patsara.

The students will present the completed human rights reports to all ten communities and the KKU community at the third Isaan Community Gathering at KKU on 10 December.

(Republished from the Isaan University Post)