Songkran

16Apr07

I peered slowly around the corner. Snapping my head back before I was spotted I stood with my back pressed against the wall and tried to think. Chiang Mai had turned, literally overnight, from a peaceful mountain city to a war-zone. Now I found myself cowering in an alleyway trying to work up the courage to look out again.

I did. There were about twelve of them. Mostly young men, teenagers. All of them armed to the teeth with rifles and pistols and… I pulled my head back. Why didn’t I listen to everyone? I had been warned. I had been told not to go out. To stay in my hostel and wait it out. But I had laughed. I had been stubborn. I wanted to go on like nothing had changed. Like nothing was different. But there was a big difference. Songkran.

It wasn’t so bad this morning, when I had gone out for a run down the cool streets. Those who were up and about seemed normal enough. But now they were different. Gangs roamed the streets or set up makeshift bases on the footpaths. Pick-ups cruised slowly down the streets, the backs bristling with weapons and eager young warriors. Everywhere there was screaming and shouting, people were running down the streets or furiously trying to barricade their homes and shops.

I thought about the way I had come. It was the wrong way to my hostel but I thought maybe I could get around some how. I looked down to my left. An old man was handing weapons out to a small group of children. Some of them looked younger than ten. I pulled my head back into the safety of the shadow.

The kids were the worst. Not because they were more dangerous but because you never expected it from a kid. They’d look at you and smile and you’d think “it’s only a kid, look at him!” and then he’d charge. And so would all of his friends and brothers and sisters and parents. The kids were the worst. It was humiliating to be scared of a child. But these kids were dangerous. I had seen on the news before I left the cafe that nearly 100 people had been killed already, with about 1200 injured. Mostly drivers, either shot off their bikes as they tried to speed past, or people injured when cars lost control on the roads. Thousands more were expected to be killed or injured over the next few days.

I watched one of the red Sawngthaew pass by my alley. Maybe I should try to flag one down. Sawngthaew were a cross between a taxi and a bus; they were heavy, old pick-up trucks with metal covers over the back and rows of benches inside. They picked anyone up who was going their way for a small charge. Now they had slipped into the role of armoured cars, offering some protection to those foolhardy enough to attempt travel. I followed it with my head as it moved up the road towards the gang. One of the women stepped out in front of it and waved for it to stop. I saw it slow, I saw the people in the back peer out through the thin slits in the steel sides. The gang swarmed the truck, shouting and whooping. They stuck the barrels of their guns through the slit-windows and fired. I heard the people inside, young girls it sounded like, screaming. I ran for it. This was my chance. They didn’t notice me as I ran behind them, they were still firing and there were still screams coming from the truck.

“Do what I’m going to do, stay at home with a couple of beers and wait the whole thing over.” Andy sat beside me the day before. “This Songkran is no joke, lots of people are going to get hurt.” He was right, this wasn’t the time to be out and about. My hostel was dark and barren, like a prison cell. But it was safe from all this madness. I wished I was there already, but I had several kilometers to go. I darted up a street, sweat trickling down my spine. I staggered to a stop, bent over with my hands on my knees. Gasping in the warm air I looked up ahead. Oh no, god please no – there was a group of children on the corner. Maybe five of them. They were doing what all the crazy people seemed to be doing. Waiting for some poor sap to stumble into them.

I straightened myself up. I hoped that maybe my white face and expensive clothes would give them second thoughts about attacking me. I walked casually along the opposite footpath, right up level with them. One of the boys was standing in the middle of the road, watching me as I walked up towards him. His face was curious but his weapon was pointing down. I smiled. He smiled back. He shouted at the top of his lungs. I ran like crazy. I could hear them shouting and chasing me, and as I looked behind me I saw several men spill out of the shops beside them and join the chase. Rounding the corner I nearly crashed into a group of women. Two girls and a middle aged woman. They were loading pistols. One of them grinned at me and nudged the other two. They straightened up. “Police! Police!” I shouted and pointed behind them, hoping to distract them for a second. They didn’t even blink, they knew the police were powerless. Songkran was in control now. The first group was coming around the corner behind me so I had no choice, I ran full on though the middle of the women. They all fired and I felt a wet slap on my shoulder as one of them hit. I ran on.

Songkran had taken over Chiang Mai, the police made no efforts to curb it. They had become targets themselves for the gangs. It was all over the news, pictures of fighting in the streets, ambulances carrying off the injured. Traffic police trying to control the flows of cars in and out of the city. I stood in my room, panting. The steady drip-drip from my shirt forming a small puddle on the concrete. I stopped panting and shrugged. If you can’t beat them, join them. I tore off my shirt, chalked my face like rambo and raced out the door. At the entrance to the hostel I stopped. There were two kids on the street outside. A pistol in each hand and screaming out my best war-yodel I charged out the gate, knees springing to my chest and flip-flops slapping the ground. The kids saw me and took a step back as if to run, but then changed their mind and ran straight at me firing their guns. I fired too and their was a melee of whirling bodies as we leaped around attempting to secure solid a hit. I was winning, and I would have won if it wasn’t for their dad who joined the battle. He opened fire from the garden and hit me dead in the chest, nearly knocking me off my feet. I staggered back, saw that I was out manned and out gunned, turned on my heel and scarpered. What else could I do? The cheeky git had his garden hose!

This is Songkran, the Thai new year and the worlds biggest water festival. From the 13th to the 15th of April, the Thai celebrate with the throwing of water. Chiang Mai is considered the best place to be if you want to get wet in April, with tens of thousands of people taking to the street to drink, dance and attack everyone within sight with water guns, pans, buckets and hoses. Outside Central, the biggest shopping centre in Chiang Mai, armies of people can be found jerking to the thump of dance music and filling the air with water from huge fire hoses. The roads become moving water fights, with people waging war from the backs of trucks and motorbikes. On the stretch of road from the shopping centre to the area my hostel is in, about 3 kilometres, I counted no less than 30 water points, places were anyone driving on the road or (insanely!) trying to walk on the footpath would get a solid soaking. Old men and women with barrels of water dole out dishes of it over the head of passers by like it was a gift. Young men with tanks of water on their backs stalk the streets giving high-pressured refreshment to anyone they spot looking remotely dry. A particularly sneaky one are the groups of sweet looking girls walking around pouring ice-water down peoples necks! Blasting passing motorists appears to have the most appeal, motorcyclists being the most vulnerable. Most of the injuries and deaths associated at this time of hear are either due to dangerous driving (usually involving alcohol) or people simply being lifted off their bikes by a bucket of water. The Thai way of dealing with this is somewhat interesting, where instead of asking people to stop throwing buckets of water at motorists, they ask the motorists to slow down so that the attackers can poor the water on them instead! Even with all the associated problems, most Thais love this time of year and the children squirm in anticipation weeks in advance. The buzz on the streets is incredible, and everybody is smiling and laughing and having a great time. Songkran baby, YEAH!

Filed under: Thailand   |  Leave a Comment