No one really has had permission to live there. Not even from the beginning. Nearly 70 years ago, it wasn’t that important. What was important was coolie labour in the Klong Toey Port and butchers in the slaughter house.
Let them live as they may: Helter-skelter. So they built clap-trap wooden shacks. Pirated municipal water and electricity. And last week, all these years later, those wooden shacks caught fire.
But those shacks are home. Babies born there, old folks have died there. Children grew up in, lived above and around the pig, cattle holding pens. Poor but beloved. Sacred.
Twelve days ago today, it burned to the ground. Nothing left.
Two city blocks wide & long: 51 old wood shacks & 76 families. Our homes. Yes, as squatters: no legal right to the land, except we have butchered pork and cattle for the city – 3,500 a night, and carried produce on our backs, up and down ship gang-planks now for 60 plus years. We fought for municipal water at normal prices and finally ‘won the battle of meters’ (to have our own meter) but still have one big water meter to share Bangkok city water.
We won’t leave; where would we go – This is home. And we are re-building as fast as we can. We have cleared most of the burnt scrap. We have sifted through the burnt to find our sacred statues.
WE are doing most of the clearing burnt scrap and re-building ourselves. We aren’t the best carpenters, but the work has to be done.
With strings of different colors and a single piece of paper with your name on it – that’s how to mark the spot where your shack once stood – slum style. And every neighbor respects that, understands what these basic symbols imply.
Some have been extra lucky and got a tent – a tent on top of burned wood and unsafe ground – gives you protection and you claim your turf.
We are using your money for that. Plus school uniforms for 41 school children, plus pots and pans, plus houses for a couple of our teachers who lost everything, plus shacks for elderly ladies with no source of income and certainly no money to re-build. And on and on. Time is of the essence and we won’t rest before everyone is back in the community.
Plus the rains are coming – the rainy monsoon season.
The ‘new houses’ might not look like much high class, but they are solid and liveable.
And everyone is participating, everyone is involved. The women take care of the donation box (so every coin is counted) another group prepare the food. The men take turns at guard duty at night, so that no stranger comes to wander around. The teachers come each morning to collect the children for school.
Thank you - Prayers as always fr. joe.