Not This, Not That ~ HONG KONG AND ON
I had
no contacts in Hong Kong, but Biao Chin arranged for
someone to pick me up. To cut things short a little
here, I went to stay with a prominent Chinese monk
in his flat-temple, and from there, set about finding
a German monk by the name of Saddhaloka who
I’d met in Bangkok in 1972, and who was based
in H.K. I tracked him down easily enough, as he was
quite well-known, speaking, reading and writing Chinese
better than most Chinese, and found him operating
a small Buddhist printing-press, above which he slept
in a windowless attic. I enlisted him to help me get
permission to visit the refugee camps, as that is
what I’d come for. He introduced me to one of
his supporters, a lady named Leung Wai Lan, who was
to help me a lot, and was very kind.
It wasn’t easy to get permission, but when we
eventually did, to-gether with Mdm Leung, we began
our visits. There were six or seven camps, scattered
all over, run like prisons, which most had actually
been; the refugees were strictly regimented. In one
camp, when Saddhaloka was not along, a government
official approached me (my activities until then had
surely been moni-tored and approved, otherwise they
would soon have been ter-minated), and politely asked
if I could visit the Camps regularly, or, failing
this, if I knew of any monks in Hong Kong who would
do so. He said many Christians visited the Camps regularly,
but so far no Buddhists.
I regretted to say that I was unable to visit regularly
myself, as I was passing through, and didn’t
know of any Hong Kong monks who would. I was ashamed
to say that I’d written to the monk the previous
year, and got no response. Nor did I know that Saddhaloka
and Mdm Leung would continue to visit the Camps after
I left.
Mdm Leung took me across to Macau to visit a Camp
there. We got permission to do so from a Catholic
priest who was in charge ~ Father Lancelot, a Malaccan
~ and found most of the refugees feverishly engaged
in making plastic flowers, for which they were paid
a pittance; it was almost slave-labor. None of them
wanted to stop working to talk with us.
Now, when some refugees in Hong Kong said, “We’ve
been here four years already, but you are the first
monk to ever visit us,” I felt very sad. “I
can do this as I have been doing, but I don’t
speak Vietnamese or understand their culture; I must
go to the U.S. to try to find some monks to come back”.
I had no idea how difficult this would be.
While in PRPC, I never thought I’d see the departing
refugees again, as the U.S. was just so remote to
me that it seemed like another planet! We cannot see
the future, however, and it is be-cause of this that
I do not make promises, as so many things may happen
in the meantime ~ things over which we have no control
whatsoever and which we cannot possibly anticipate
~ that may prevent us keeping the promise; and if
we cannot or do not keep our promises, people may
lose their trust in us ~ if they had any to begin
with ~ and loss of trust is a very sad thing; so,
make no promises, and break no promises.
I did not carry out my resolve immediately, as I’d
decided to go to Nepal and India again, having been
away so long; and even before that, must go to Singapore,
to meet up with my parents on their way from Australia
to England for a visit.
Therefore, from Hong Kong, where the temperature hadn’t
been above 18 degrees, I flew to Bangkok, where it
was 36! I visited Banyat, who by this time was married,
and told him of my plan to go to Nepal and India again;
he asked if he could go with me, and I said yes, if
he got his parents’ and wife’s permission
by the time I returned from Malaysia. I then took
a bus to Phang-nga to see Dhammaviro again, and from
there to Penang to see Ashok, who I’d not seen
since ’78. His wife had hated me since then,
but I didn’t find out why until some years later,
when I was told that I’d once gone to visit
him when he was out, and because she said he wouldn’t
be long, I asked if I could wait for him. Well, apparently,
she was on the verge of taking their child to see
a doctor, but was afraid to tell me, and so had been
unable to go because I was there. But was that my
fault, and was it reason to hate me? There was something
else, unsaid; she was the pos-sessive-type, and was
probably jealous of my friendship with Ashok, since
we had known each other long before they met. This
same thing was to happen later with another good friend
in Malaysia, although I really posed no threat to
their marriage.
On to Malacca, where I found the Humanistic Buddhist
group had shifted to bigger premises, and went to
stay with them again. Next morning, while I was out
to get a newspaper, Hock Guan pulled up beside me
(he and I had lost contact while I was in the Philippines,
and he’d recently married, too); his
wife had seen me, and having heard of me, pointed
me out; it was good to see him again, and meet his
wife, Joan, a Eurasian girl of Christang
stock (descendents of the Portuguese who’d ruled
Malacca centuries before). She had been his first
and only love, and he’d insisted on marrying
her in spite of his parents’ objec-tions. I
couldn’t know that I would stay with them many
times over the next 20 years. Earlier, I’d given
him the Buddhist-name Dharmavira, meaning
Dharma-Hero. I’ll refer to him as DV
from now on in this account, as that is how I came
to address him.
I also met Teoh Hai Siang, who I’d
first met in ’76, and asked if he’d like
to go with me to India, as he was still unattached;
he jumped at the chance, especially as I would subsidize
his trip, not having enough money himself. I told
him I would collect him on my return from Singapore,
which is where I went next, to meet my parents. I
went to their hotel the morning after they got in,
and was surprised at how they’d aged since I’d
last seen them, but 6 years can do a lot to people,
especially when they are already old; dad was 75,
and mum 73, but still quite healthy and fit. I took
them to places like the Bird-Park and the
equally good Botanical Gardens. And of course, I took
them to Phor Kark See, where I was staying, and introduced
them to Ven. Hong Choon, who treated them graciously;
they were very im-pressed with the temple, particularly
as the Ven. had embarked on a series of building projects
which had really transformed the place. They enjoyed
their few days in Singapore.
After they left for England, I returned to Malacca
to pick up Hai Siang, and we went to K. L., where
I got permission ~ although not easily; remember,
this was Malaysia, where anything non-Muslim went
very slowly ~ to visit the refugee camps of Sungai
Besi (near K.L.) and Pulau Bidong. I went to Sungai
Besi first, but don’t recall much about it now;
my visit to Pulau Bidong was more memorable, as this
is where many of the refugees I’d met in Bataan
had come from. I got to the island by the boat used
by the UNHCR personnel, the Blue Dart; it took an
hour or so to get there. I had just 4 hours for my
visit, between the time the boat got there and the
time it returned, so had to do all I wanted to do
in this time. I wasn’t expected, so it took
a while to let peo-ple know I was there and would
be giving a talk in the temple; a translator also
had to be found. I was then taken to the temple ~
Chua Tu-Bi (Temple of Compassion) ~ which was on a
hill over looking the sea, and when people had gathered,
gave my talk.
There were 5000 people on Bidong at that time, but
I couldn’t imagine how it was when it had reached
its maximum of 43,000 in ‘79! How could they
all possibly have slept? It was such a small island,
with seemingly standing-room only; I visualized them
all standing up, bunched together like chop-sticks!
We went on to Bangkok to collect Banyat, who’d
got his parents’ reluctant permission to accompany
us. His father had given him money for the trip, and
his wife also had to let him go, not having much choice
about it; he’d married under his parents’
pressure, but he didn’t love her at all, and
unkindly called her a pig!
Before leaving for Kathmandu, I wished to visit the
refugee-camps in Thailand, so went to the office of
the UNHCR, but they either couldn’t or wouldn’t
help me, and advised me to go to the Ministry of Home
Affairs. There, I faced an unsympathetic offi-cial,
who asked me why I wanted to visit the camps. “To
encour-age our co-religionists,” I said (as
a Thai, he probably consid-ered himself a Buddhist).
He answered, “They are illegal immigrants.”
“They are also human beings,” I said,
and when I saw that he wasn’t going to give
me permission, I added, “You know, we are all
refugees, you and I included. Today, you are here
in a nice office, but tomorrow, you don’t know.”
In spite of this, still hoping to get into one of
the Camps, I went by bus to Panatnikhom,
some hours out of Bangkok, and spoke to the guard
at the gate in Thai, but with no more success. I had
to return to Bangkok unfulfilled. What a tragedy,
that these Camps should have been swarming with Christian
missionaries, committing their outrages upon the vulnerable
Buddhists, while the Buddhists of Thailand either
didn’t give a damn, or were simply unaware of
what was going on. Thailand has much to answer for
as regards its treatment of the refugees. How can
we reconcile this with all the temples and monks there?
Well, although there are monks and temples in great
profusion there, Thailand is no more a Buddhist country
than the U.S. is a Christian country. There is no
such thing as a Buddhist country (or a Christian country
or Muslim country). There are Buddhists in Thailand,
to be sure, but there are also many people who are
not, including people who think of themselves as so;
calling oneself ‘Buddhist’, and even wearing
Buddha-images around one’s neck ~ as many of
the pirates did and do ~ does not make one a Buddhist.
If Thailand were a Buddhist country, however could
we explain the existence of the world’s most
blood-thirsty pirates, the rampant drug-trade, the
sex-industry, or the trade in endangered animals?
No, Thailand is not a Buddhist country, and never
has been. It is individuals who are Buddhists, not
whole countries.
We got tickets from Bangkok to Kathmandu, and Calcutta
to Bangkok. I was a bit surprised at Hai Siang in
the plane, how-ever, because it was his first flight,
and he slept, not at all inter-ested when we came
in view of the magnificent panorama of the Himalayas.
I was soon to regret taking them with me, as I had
regretted taking George to Istanbul all those years
before. My desire to have some companions was at the
root of it.
We were given room and board in Anandakuti, for which
I made a donation when we left, as is customary; we
stayed there over the Wesak celebrations, and meanwhile,
I showed them around Kathmandu. Banyat was enthralled
by the temples, but other-wise was quite hard to take
care of, and a bit like a baby with his bowel-movements;
he’d not trained himself, and would want to
go suddenly and inconveniently, such as when we were
about to board buses. Hai Siang later developed home-sickness.
From Kathmandu, we went to Pokhara, where Banyat almost
drowned in the lake while we were boating. What a
big respon-sibility it was to take people with me!
Then it was on to Lumbini for a while, from where
we crossed the border into India to visit the three
other main Buddhist places. And while we were at the
bathing-ghats in Benares, Hai Siang decided to bathe
in the Ganges to ‘wash away his sins.’
Stripping down to his undies, he dived in among other
bathers, and when he surfaced, noticed a rather putrid
smell, and saw what he took to be a child’s
doll floating nearby, but soon realized it was the
bloated and rotting corpse of a baby! Horrified, he
scrambled out as fast as he could! Never again would
he try to ‘wash away his sins’ in this
manner. Apparently, Hindus don’t cremate dead
babies, but put them into a river ~ preferably the
Ganges ~ for crocodiles and fish to eat; the corpses
of sadhus are also disposed of like this.
Next, we went to Budh-Gaya, spending a few days in
the Chi-nese temple, before getting a train to Calcutta.
We’d had enough by this time, and couldn’t
wait to draw the trip to a close. The monsoon was
just about to break when we arrived. We got a taxi
from Howrah station to the Mahabodhi Society, but
neither of them thought to take the umbrellas out
of the boot when we pulled up, and so we were left
at the mercy of the heavens. I bought another for
myself, as I was the one who had to go to the airline
office to book the flight back to Bangkok, and the
com-puters there were down and not running again for
several days, meaning several long walks back and
forth. Finally, we were on the plane, and I breathed
a sigh of relief. In Bangkok, Banyat went home, and
I put Hai Siang on a train to Malaysia before booking
a flight to Manila, flying out two days later; it
was good to get back to some friends there.
Over the next 4 months, I shuttled between Bataan,
Manila and Palawan, and while in VRC I wrote my first
book, especially for the refugee-situation. It was
called KEYS FOR REFUGEES, and translated
into Vietnamese. It was just a cyclostyled effort,
and we printed only 150 copies, but the feedback from
it so positive that I felt inspired to continue writing.
It was at this time, too, that I met Pham Thanh
Hung, and nicknamed him Hung Xe Rac
because he drove the garbage-truck (Xe Rac)
around the Camp. I also came to know Adrian Seviour,
another volunteer teacher from England, who would
stay in VRC longer than the others, and become popular
with the refugees.
Meanwhile, back in Bataan, the Vietnamese
temple ~ for such it had become after the Cambodians
took over Jetavana ~ was being renovated. When I visited
in September, I was told of a tragedy that had just
happened there. While working on the roof of the temple,
someone had fallen, and a timber had tumbled down
on him, crushing his head! His name was Le Van
Diem, and he left his wife and five or six children
to go on without him.
"One
of the first things learned by anyone who seeks an
answer to the riddle of the universe is that, while
chance may play a part, our lives, our world, and
the universe are not governed by chance. They do appear,
however, to be governed by what may best be described
as laws ~ physical, moral, and spiritual laws.
"Certainly, this is true of the physical world.
Gravity may be de-fined as the mutual attraction between
all matter, but it is so much more than this. The
law of gravity makes mobility possible. Obey the law
of gravity and you are free, in normal circumstances,
to move about as you will. But disobedience of the
law of gravity is not an option ~ you must obey it
or suffer the consequences."
~ American ex-pastor Charles Templeton: Farewell To
God ~
“A
fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't
change the subject.”
~ Winston Churchill ~.
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