releasing sparrows for good luck … and animal welfare

After returning from the floating markets in Damnoen Saduak, I headed back to Bangkok to meet my friend, Steve, who flew from the US to Thailand for a brief Southeast Asian vacation and a visit.  We spent the next four days navigating Bangkok, spending more time in traffic than we did actually touring.  Or perhaps being stuck in Bangkok traffic IS touring Bangkok.  

On our first morning in Bangkok, we were approached over breakfast at our hotel by a Thai woman who had small, anxious looking sparrows trapped in wooden cages.  She was selling them so that people could release them for good luck or to make merit.  Most of the cages were about ten inches cubed and held about 5 birds each.  Although the cages were small and the birds understandably uneasy, each bird had enough room to flit around inside its cage.  

The woman also had one slightly larger cage into which she had stuffed what seemed to be over fifty little sparrows.  There were so many birds in the cage that, not only did they not have room to move around inside, they were smashed on top of each other, suffocating the ones on the bottom.  In retrospect, when she proposed to sell me a cage to release the birds, I wish that I had grabbed the big cage, scolded her for mistreating the birds and let them go without giving her a single baht.  For some reason though, despite being horrified at her cruelty to the tiny birds, Steve and I played the game and bought the cage for 400 baht.  We both marveled that in doing so, we were rewarding bad behavior and probably encouraging her not only to capture more birds, but to cram them in like sardines as well.  But at least for the moment, the birds we bought were alive and now free.  To see a video of us releasing the birds, click here.

Our time in Bangkok seemed to be dominated by animals.  After releasing the birds, we headed to Queen Saovabha Memorial Institute and Snake Farm.  At this particular farm, trained snake handlers extract venom from Thailand’s numerous poisonous snakes to make anti-venom to treat snake bites out in the provinces.  In addition, the farm also offered snake shows which Steve and I attended out of curiosity.  We got a bit lost in the city and ended up arriving at the farm just before the show started.  The small concrete stands were already full of spectators so we joined two head-shaven nuns in white robes in the “standing room only” section.  

Steve was thoughtful enough to invite the nuns to stand in front of us as they were much shorter than he was … at which point a funny thing happened.  About fifteen Thai school girls all dressed in their neatly pressed uniforms spotted the nuns.  The girls got up out of their front-and-center seats and walked down to where we were standing, indicating that the nuns should take their seats.  “How odd!” I thought.  Why did ALL of the girls get up when there were only two nuns?  Then one of the girls tapped me on the shoulder and indicated that Steve and I and a few other tourists who got to the show late should also take seats in the stands.  We marveled at how polite and thoughtful the girls were and happily took them up on their offer.  To see a video of the snake show, click here. 

We also spent time roaming through Chinatown, tasting innumerable foods in the streets and checking out an interesting amulet market where I found many supplies for my mixed media artwork.  The highlight of Bangkok for me, however, was the Thai Puppet Theater.  

According to the program distributed by the theater, there are three types of Thai theatrical puppetry:  khon, the most sophisticated performs only the Ramakian (the Thai version of the Indian Ramayana epic); lakorn is less sophisticated performing all other classics of Thai drama while likay, the least sophisticated, performs only common dramas.  We were treated to a performance of the Birth of Ganesha which I believe fell into the khon category and were thrilled with what we saw.

posing with the puppets and puppeteers

Theatrical puppetry is a very intricate and complicated performance art.  Three puppeteers, each khon, lakorn or likay dancers in their own right,  are required to manipulate a single puppet.  They appear onstage with the puppet and use highly stylized and synchronous dance-like movements so that they appear not only to operate the puppet, but as a shadow-like extension of it.  Each puppeteer wore black costumes with red sashes around their wastes.  Their pants looked to actually be a skirt with fold of cloth that came up loosely between the legs in the fashion of a diaper, but which was actually quite elegant in appearance.  I loved watching the puppeteers’ feet as they continually mimicked the same action made by the puppet.  Their toes were  often curled up and every movement was perfectly synchronized.  They were exquisite to watch. It was no surprise to me to learn that this particular troupe are recognized masters in their art having won Best Performance (2008) and Best Traditional Performance (2006) at the World Festival of Puppet Art in Prague.  

In addition to the talented puppeteers orchestrating the theater, the puppets themselves were absolutely stunning.  They were approximately three feet tall with exceedingly ornate costumes and elaborate features.  Their wooden bodies were highly articulated allowing the puppeteers to create subtle as well as dramatic movements that seemed very life-like.  The story was accompanied by a very talented traditional Thai orchestra with classical singing.  

Before the show began, as is the custom in Thailand, the national anthem was played and the entire audience stood.  Throughout the anthem, a slideshow was projected with images of the King as a baby, growing up, helping people and then as an older, very regal-looking man.  After the national anthem and slideshow, the musicians, narrators and singers offered a prayer explaining that it’s traditional in Thailand before every art performance to perform a ceremony to give thanks to the teachers of that art.  During that small ceremony, the performers lit incense, said prayers and played some reverent sounding music.  

we snuck backstage before the performance and captured the puppeteers relaxing before the show

The orchestra utilized very unique instruments.  Each piece looked ancient, elaborate and exotic. Oversized xylophones curved up into a smile.  An instrument resembling a flute was wider and bowed out at both ends.  The sounds created by these odd-looking instruments were as exotic as the pieces creating them.

The story of Birth of Ganesha, although told/sung in Thai, was translated in English projected on either side of the stage.  That story as presented by the Puppet Theater goes like this:  Isuan, a senior God, was mourning the death of Satee, his wife/consort and was incapacitated with grief.  Taraka, a senior demon, decided to take advantage of Isuan’s present state in an effort to take over the universe.   Taraka asked Brahma, god of everything, to make him invincible except to Isuan’s son, who was as yet not only unborn, but unconceived as well.  For some reason (perhaps so we could enjoy the story?), Brahma granted the demon’s wish.  

The demons, led by Taraka, invaded heaven.  My jaw dropped when I read the next English translation of the action:  “The gods were unable to defend heaven and fled.”  “What a fascinating concept!” I thought. 

Upon fleeing heaven, Isuan and several lesser gods went to see Brahma about the demon invasion of heaven (In the play, Brahma appeared to me to be in a place that looked like heaven.  Were there two heavens? Where was Brahma located anyway?) Brahma’s solution was love.  He rescued Isuan from his incapacitated state by making him fall in love with Uma, a deity re-incarnation of Isuan’s late wife, Satee.   

Thai puppets "hanging out" backstage

Shortly after their marriage, Isuan went away on retreat leaving his new bride, Uma, with a five-pointed spear.  While Isuan was gone on retreat, the demons invaded heaven again and Uma retreated to her room to pray to Kongka, the goddess of the waters.  As she prayed, a child formed “from the perspiration of her body.”  The enactment of this particular part of the story was spectacularly beautiful.  It was all portrayed in silhouette within a soft light that appeared to be a protective bubble, reminiscent of a womb.  A small spot of bright light appeared in the softly lit womb and became larger and larger until it finally became a child.  The child and Uma were in the womb like bubble together.  I loved the imagery.  

The next projected English translation was, “In this way, she had a child - a very large child.”  I laughed to myself at the stilted way this was put.  It seems that Kumarn, Uma’s son was about 5 years old when he was born.  Shortly after his birth, Uma gave Kumarn the spear given to her by Isuan and told him to the guard the palace.  

Eventually, Isuan returned from his retreat and tried to enter the palace but was impeded by Kumarn.  Neither Isuan or Kumarn knew the other’s identity.  Isuan became furious at the impudent boy who would not let him pass into his own castle and chopped off the boys’ head.  It seemed to me that Isuan might need to consider some anger management classes.

Uma discovered what happened and naturally grieved.  Her grief became anger and she turned into a monster.  Literally.  Not only did her appearance change at this point in the story, but her name changed as well to Kalee.  Kalee was large, ugly, very black with huge white eyes and four arms.  Her hair was wild.  She looked very menacing indeed.  Kalee scolded Isuan telling him that he had killed their son.  

Isuan’s response to this was interesting.  He ordered his servant to go out and cut the head off the first animal he found lying in a westward direction.  We audience members saw the servant tromp off into the woods and a few seconds later heard the sound of a poor elephant trumpeting.  The servant returned with the elephant head which was placed on boy’s neck.  While Kalee changed back to Uma upon her son’s resurrection, her son’s identity changed as well:  he was now known as Ganesha.  

In the meantime, the demons had still been running around heaven creating havoc so Isuan sent his son to deal with them.  (I took great interest in noting the narrative elements common to Ganesha’s story and the Christian story of Jesus regarding the death of a son of god, his resurrection and the concept of the father/god sending his son to do battle with evil.)  In a great battle, Ganesha kills Taraka and becomes a great god himself. 

The entire performance was Broadway quality.  After the play was over, unlike on Broadway, instead of the cast taking a bow, they disappeared backstage.  The men who were voices of gods in the production lit some incense, said some quiet prayers and also walked out without taking a bow.  Then the entire audience walked down toward the stage and got in single file line to pray.  One by one, they pressed their hands together in front and held them to their forehead, wafted smoke from the incense sticks toward them as though washing their faces in the smoke.  After saying a prayer, each audience member rang a bell and then silently filed out the side door.  The entire evening was lovely and fascinating.

Although the quality of the production was superb, tickets were only $25 (900 baht) each.  Sadly, there were only 30 to 40 people in the audience to experience this exquisite performance.  Steve and I both commented that it was a great shame that the theater wasn’t completely packed for such an amazing and successful work of art.  We were delighted, however, that we had stumbled upon it and had experienced such amazing levels of puppet mastery.

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If you’re in Bangkok, I would highly recommend attending the Joe Louis Puppet Theater.    They have performances every night beginning at 8:00 pm with a documentary on Thai puppetry from 7:30 to 8:00.  The theater is located off Rama IV Road behind the Suan Lum Night Bazaar.  Their website is www.thaipuppet.com.  Tickets are 900 baht per person.