back in the day, the long long day, nearly half a century ago, when i arrived in thailand as a missionary, i was teamed with elder bart seliger. he introduced me to the concept of the thai street meeting.
we were stationed out towards the don muang airport. on particularly hot days elder seliger would say 'elder torkildson, get a stack of pamphlets -- we're going out to the airport!' the don muang airport, you see, was air conditioned.
back then thailand was an open and trusting country. in the case of morals, it was 'wide-open,' but it was also a welcoming and accepting place, where government restrictions really didn't apply to farangs like elder seliger and me. with his sun glasses, white shirt and black necktie, most thais thought elder seliger was from the CIA. so all doors were open to us. (but not all hearts -- the concept of the need for a personal savior in the person of Jesus Christ did not penetrate many hearts or minds while i was there.)
we'd wander through the waiting area, passing out pamphlets, and then elder seliger would barge right into the administrative offices to harass the secretaries, who, like secretaries everywhere in the world, were charged by their bosses with keeping everyone out. when he got the inevitable cold shoulder he would draw himself up to his full six foot one height and say 'mr. praphan will hear about this!' praphan is a very common name in thailand, like smith here in the usa, and elder seliger was betting that one of the high mucky mucks in that particular office was named praphan. it usually worked -- the secretary would get all flustered, and then usher us in to see her boss. where we would completely befuddle the poor man by giving him a discussion on family home evening.
but on days when the weather was cooler and the sky overcast, elder seliger liked to hold street meetings. on busy street corners. in public parks. and especially at the talad -- the open air market.
he wasn't big on door to door tracting.
'it's a waste of time, elder' he'd tell me. 'when you do get into a house the television is blaring and the kids are screaming. the mother is scared we're there to kidnap them and if the father's home he's usually drunk on Chang beer.'
so i'd be delegated to carry the street meeting poster and tripod. the poster read 'what is the purpose of life?'
we'd set up in the talad, close to a noodle stand, and eleder seliger would begin to work his magic. he was a people person. he could size up a man or woman, thai or chinese or farang, and fearlessly engage them in conversation, striking the right chord every time to discover their hobby or interests. Me, i just mumbled and stumbled along like the cliched greenie i was. luckily, my old clown partner steve smith had sent me a shipment of animal balloons, so i would make an elephant or a parrot for some kid and then i'd have my own little crowd of spectators, at which point i would try to explain the plan of salvation to the crowd. but all they were interested in was getting a free balloon.
elder seliger did it the right way. whatever subject he was quietly discussing with a man or woman, he would eventually bring them back to our sign and begin telling them about the pre existence.
then the gai yang cart would arrive. this is smoked grilled chicken, marinated in lime juice, fish sauce, and fiery little mouse shit peppers. that's their official thai name. mouse shit peppers. the incense of that grilled chicken would lure us over to the cart for some wings and thighs, washed down with fanta pineapple pop. then we'd go back to work for a while. then it would be time for som tum, that luscious green papaya salad made with a mortar and pestle that caused our mouths to pucker in ecstasy.
then back to the poster.
until the pork peanut satay guy showed up. skewers of pork liver grilled over glowing coals, coated with a sweet and fiery crushed peanut glaze. oh mamma -- those babies went fast, so we always suspended operations until we'd had a dozen or two of 'em.
by then it was lunch time, so we adjourned to the noodle shop for a generous plate of shrimp fried rice with klong weed on the side. and another fanta. i always insisted on a small bowl of fish sauce in which floated mouse shit peppers and lime wedges, to sprinkle over my rice. mmmmmmm, i can still taste that kick today!
we'd go back to our street meeting for a bit, but being conscientious missionaries, we'd soon head back to the apartment for several hours of napping -- er, i mean language study!
then in the evening it was back out to the night market, where the roti man made his little feather light pancakes, sprinkled with sugar and drizzled with canned sweetened condensed milk. i'd make a few balloon swans and elephants. elder seliger would flirt (harmlessly and politely) with the swarms of teenage girls who were at the same time intrigued and frightened by the big hairy farang with sunglasses.
our efforts ended at nine, we would head for home, each of us clutching a large bag of deep fried banana fritters.
and believe it or don't, i actually lost weight during my two years in thailand! I guess those street meetings were pretty hard work, after all.
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