The fog shrouded the city of Betong, a former Malaysian communist strong hold, in the deep south of Thailand, bordering Malaysia.
With the end of Ramadan near, some people are saying keep away from rural areas where insurgents are active. Others are saying avoid Yala, “they are shooters down there.” The military beef up is another angle of the equation. And the silent insurgent, never seen, only heard of in the papers. The day I caught a train from Hat Yai to Yala, a bomb went off in Pattani. That explained the military on the train.
After a week in Hat Yai, I was going stir crazy. It use to be a swinging city, but many of the working girls have gone south, on the Malay side, looking for customers, said one driver I met outside the train station.
A Chinese Thai lady serves me some noodles. She’s on the phone, explaining she doesn’t want to cater for the train station. She has lost 10 000 baht already, in the past year. “They order the food, but never pay for it.” She gives me a generous portion. I tell her I’m going to Kalok . I had already bought the ticket. Don’t go there, she says, "they kill each other...."
She said here in Hat Yai, no one has money. Only yesterday she heard two Malaysians complain about being double charged for noodles. Hat Yai has that double charge feel about it, and no matter how much you bargain, they give you the Malaysian price. The problem is that there are fewer tourists, and the Malaysians aren’t coming to Thailand. “Even they are scared of the bombs,” says the soup seller.
Stay away from the soldiers and police, said the driver parked outside of the train station. He and his mate were genuinely interested in chatting. He said government officials were usually the ones targeted.
Motor bikes were being secured with rope on the last carriage. I mentioned something about the seats being checked for bombs ,but the train staff didn’t hear me. A guy sitting behind me on the train is talking to himself. I was caught doing it the other day. A soldier gets on, and places his weapon and flack jacket on his seat, like the other soldiers who got on a few train stations earlier. They seem pretty comfortable on the train, and use the traveling as down time. Another guy, late 50’s , won’t tell me where he’s going. He starts up a one way conversation.
He says it isn’t good to sunbathe naked on the beach. The guy behind me says foreigners like to get a tan without their clothes on. Another guy from Songkla is laughing. His mother is sitting next to him, and she seems quite shocked about the talk of taking your clothes off. She's wearing a Muslim head scarf. I try and put a bit of distance between myself and him. I lip sync to the guy from Songkla that the man opposite me is crazy man. He laughs again. It seems a nervous laugh. Maybe he read the Bangkok Post today.
The guy who was quite chatty about being naked has shut up since the military got on. He occasionally pulls out a love heart mirror to groom himself.
CCTV cameras at every train station. The Deep South is high-tech, what's next, fences? Punji sticks, facing outwards, reinforce army barracks with wire fences. It looks like something from Vietnam period, of strategic hamlets. The only ones being isolated are the military who are continual targets of the insurgents. Those ubiquitous sand bangs are becoming common place.
When the military got off at Yala, they went from relax mode to high alert.
I followed them.
There was a drive by shooting only last week. A woman was slain on the street. For that reason, I really had reservations about Yala - but not enough to not get off. I asked one of the soldiers where could I get a good hotel. He seemed green, and had other things to worry about. Outside, a sea of Muslims, in colorful garb. It was like being back in Indonesia. I had found my comfort zone.
A local Muslim man told me where a hotel was, and how to get to Betong, where I’d be heading tomorrow. He shaked my hand and touched his chest, like all polite Muslims do.
"There was a bomb in Pattani today, " said one of the hotel staff. He said no one died, so it didn't seem serious in his eyes. Then he says if I want a massage, he can arrange it. Down stairs in the hotel is a karaoke bar and a massage parlor. And across the street are pubs. And the local 7-11 is a beehive of dedicated shoppers, including myself. Recently five 7- Elevens were targeted in Pattani, and other locations,by insurgents, with 3 killed and more than 50 people injured.
People who are use to oppression and living under the yoke of daily violence, will still continue shopping at 7-11. The female staff wear white head scarfs, and the idea that it could be a target, are one of the prevalent risks of living in the Deep South.
At bus station, the ticket seller is wearing a shirt, asking “Where Did Democracy Go?” referring to the May 5th crack down of the Red Shirts in Bangkok. The mini bus eventually leaves. Most of the mini buses are heading to Hat Yai, and no one is lining up to go to Betong. Not far out-of-town, the driver puts on some music. It’s a sad song about the bombs going off in the night, later into the trip, another song espousing the virtues of sobriety, "drink tea better."
At a check point, a motor cyclist is pulled over. A soldier lifts up his seat looking for explosives. Then he's on his way. We pass him, and the mini bus driver beeps his horn. It's recognition of their solidarity, they might be burdened with these security measures but they bear them well. I lost count of the check points, soldiers looking bored, and burrowing in tight behind barbed wire and camouflages.
All the way from Yala to Betong were signs of local Imans and reminders of Ramadan. Even one sign in English said to have a safe Ramadan. On the surface, it seemed like there was some bizarre sign war fair going on. The bus drops off one Buddist, who is going to a temple. He seems very jittery. The temple is protected by the military. Then the bus driver drops off another Thai and her daughter at a local school which has a soldier guarding it at the gate.
Betong is the most southerly town in Thailand. Not entirely true, still another 7 kilometers to the Malay boarder. A copper pegged me as journalist. He was drinking beers and out of uniform. He shows me his I.D card, yes he's a copper. Then he's on the phone to his boss. He wants to take me to see the hot springs and the caves where the communist insurgents hid from the Malaysian government.
All I have to do is put in 100 baht of petrol. Now that's ripe. He's pissed and then looks through my camera for any dodgy photos. He asks me if I'm staying at a hotel I took a picture of. I tell him anything he wants to hear, and eventually get away from him. He says he'll help me write a story if I promote Thailand. If I don't... I didn't want to hold his stare. He needs to get laid and I'm out of here to find a hotel.
Betong is a quiet place. The hotel I'm staying at has a sign that says customers who use condoms are only welcome. You can walk the streets and rarely see any armed soldiers. It's in Yala province, but closer to the border. Here the province takes a calmer turn. The only sign of insurgents, are the Malay communists, who are from another era, and are showcased as a tourist attraction.
