THE MEANING OF TIT
Grand Palace, Temple of Emerald Buddha, Bangkok (c)Russell Johnson
TIT, she said about the military coup in Thailand in an email from Bangkok. TIT to farangs
means “This is Thailand.” That is not the title of a bad travelogue but
the notion that “hey, stuff happens here we may not understand but mai pen rai, no big deal.“ Another friend emailed me his fear that his neighborhood Starbucks might be closed (javas-interruptus). It wasn’t.
Sonchai Jitplecheep, the protagonist in John Burdett’s novels "Bangkok
8" and "Bangkok Tattoo," is an honest cop in a place where being on the
take is a form of art. Sonchai lives in a tub of moral and ethical
Jello, awkward for westerners until they become comfortable with
shrugging their shoulders, admitting they don’t understand and uttering
TIT, mai pen raii.
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Burdett is not Thai, but following the bodies, drug lords and Al-Qaeda
suspects in the Jitplecheep novels is a car chase through Thai culture
that leaves you with the impression that fluidity of judgement is not
necessarily bad, that a Buddhist wink and a wai (prayer-like hand jesture) may be more effective than a lightening bolt from God.
Of course we are outraged by any idea of a military coup. But then
Thailand has bounced back from 17 of them in the past 60 years. One
night in the 80s, in Kuala Lumpur, a note was slid underneath my hotel
room door warning me that I might want to reconsider traveling to
Bangkok the next day. But I went anyhow. Mai pen rai.
The King runs the show here, and the military has the support of the King. Deposed Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra,
the Juan Peron of Thailand, won office by the cancelling the debts of
farmers and giving money to villagers. Works every time. Then he raised
corruption and cronyism to a level that shocked even the Thais. Thaksin
had to go. But the military is doing what soldiers do, censoring the
media, leaving westerners and some Thais outraged. Radio talk shows
have been banned, at least temporarily, a refreshing thought. A day
without Bill O’Reilly would be a day OF sunshine. And the generals say
they want to change Thailand’s constitution, adopted in 1997 and said
by scholars to be among the best-crafted in the world. An editorial in
this week’s Economist warns that this coup flu could be catching, that
the Philippines and Indonesia are vunerable, that the brass hats there
might begin to fluff their plumage and stoke their muskets.
But at street level, my Thai friends say everything seems fairly normal, the tourism people say mai pen raii
and the new airport’s flacks say the biggest terminal in the world will
open on time this week. TIT, TIT, tally-ho and make that a double latte
please.
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