Brad the Impala
December 24th, 2006, 18:09
With apologies to those of you who have read this when I originally posted it five years ago. Perhaps there are sufficient new posters to whom it may be of interest. It seems appropriate for the time of year.
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"Some time ago, I posted a request for information on this board, asking for information about a boyfriend becoming a monk, and what was involved in the ceremonies etc. No one seemed to have had that experience, or feel able to share it with us. Having now had this experience, well here it is:
For those who don't know, it is the custom in Thailand for young men to spend a period, from a week to three months or more, as a novice monk living in a temple. I think that this custom is becoming less prevalent than it used to be, which is sad. The purposes, as I understand them, are to "tham boon"(make merit) for the parents and in gratitude for their upbringing, for the individual to learn more about Bhuddism, and to give the individual time out to reflect on their life. I have always thought that it was a marvellous idea, and although not Bhuddist, rather wish that I had done this in my youth.
So when my friend mentioned a year ago that one of his dreams was to do this, it seemed such a worthy thing to do that I was keen to help. There are costs involved, which there was no way on his salary that he could afford. As I don't live in Thailand, but visit as often as I can, and work as a freelance, the timing of my trips are unpredictable. I was therefore prepared to make my contribution, with the likelihood that I would not be there at that time. My friend, can I call him Lek for the sake of his privacy, insisted that he would not accept the contribution unless I could be there to share the occasion with him. His father had died several years ago, and I would stand in as the most important male figure in his life. Although I understand that his father still gains merit, even though he has passed away.
So I arranged that I could be there at the time of his induction into the monkhood. Prior to that, the would be monk spends a period of time at the temple, near his home usually, being instructed by the monks, and learning the prayers that are spoken at the ceremony in the Pali language. We arranged that he would do that prior to my arrival in Thailand, so that we could then spend time together as normal, then travel to his home province for the celebrations and ceremony at the end of my trip.
As arranged we travelled to his home towards the end of my trip, and on arrival went to his home, where I was greeted with the greatest of warmth by his mother, and such members of his family who had already arrived. The family being scattered all over Thailand in order to find work. I should say that various members of his family also contributed to the funding of the occasion, each according to his ability to do so. Already there were about twenty people, friends and neighbours, preparing food for the celebrations for the following day. Lek had arranged for us to stay that night in a nearby hotel, where I would spend the next two nights, without Lek, as from the following day sex/physical contact was not allowed. We returned to the hotel that night, both of us full of the strangest mix of emotions. Sadness that it was our last night together, and that we were soon to separate for an indefinite period. Happiness that he was able to achieve his ambition, and that I was able to help. Pride for me in Lek's strength of mind to be able to do this, he was planning to stay in the monkhood for three months, taking nothing to the temple, not even a pair of shoes. Lek had not lived a pure life, he liked his drink, his cigarrettes, the small comforts that he could afford, and his love of music. He was giving it all up.
The next day we travelled to his home at 7am. He was due to first have his hair cut, and then his head and eyebrows shaved around 8am. When we arrived a platform was being set up for the preparatory ceremony that day, canvas roofing and tables and chairs were being set up, and more of his family had arrived from Bangkok, having travelled on the overnight bus. Every single member of his close family was there, the last time that they had been together had been when his father died.
His mother cut the first lock of hair, all of which was collected in a bamboo frond, I confess I don't know why, or what happened to it later. I was then invited to take the next cut, followed by village headman, family and neighbours and friends. The same procedure was then followed with the shaving of the head, although after a number of us had had a bit of a hack, Lek was beginning to look very motheaten. Fortunately at that point a sort of master of ceremonies took over and completed the job. Meanwhile a sound system had been unloaded, which was later to be used, both to amplify the prayers/chanting and to play Ramwong traditional Thai Music for a traditional Thai Dance. Then we sat around the platform in a position of prayer while chants were made by others on the platform, not monks but holy in some way that I could not define.
Lek was kneeling in the middle of the platform, a position in which he was to stay for several hours, now dressed in a white robe over a green sarong. He responded, in Pali, to the chanting, which was interspersed with bursts of ramwong music at which a dozen or so of the ladies would spring into action dancing and one or two of the men. Inevitably the farang, me, was dragged into action also, which provided much amusement of course. I had previously asked Lek for a little coaching, as I knew that this was to happen. But he had told me to just express myself, so I did. For those who don't know the Ramwong, it involves those participating in circling, moving around in a circle and around the other participants, while making expressive hand movements, but never touching the other participants. The Thais of course make it look wonderfully graceful.
Then the music would stop and it was back to the platform and the praying and chanting. This also involved a number of ceremonies, circling Lek with string passed hand to hand by those in the front row, of which of course it was insisted that I was one, bowing with incense sticks, bowing with banana leaves, and making a curious circular movement of the hands, which I think was to ward off evil spirits. The string I think was to symbolise the entanglement of material possessions from which Lek was to be released at the end of the ceremony. Sitting next to his mother, I just followed her lead. Among the aunties and relatives there was a fair bit of discussion, as to exactly what was the correct protocol to follow.
This continued for four hours, during which from time to time, Lek was looking at me, in the lulls, to see if I was okay, and I was looking at him to see if he was okay. In case you think that was a very holy occasion there were also those who were knocking back Lao Kao, white alcohol, in honour of the occasion, and I had the occasional glass. Throughout this time, I was being brought glasses of water also, which were brought kindly to me by Lek's family.
At the end of the ceremony, there was to be a discussion about Buddhism, and it had been agreed that I, with one of Lek's friends, could go back to the hotel, to return in the evening for the main celebrations. The preparation for which had been going on all morning.
On return the party was in full swing lots of eating and drinking, and again Lek's family looked after me royally. I was brought a succession of plates of food, all of which Lek had previously told them were my favourites from Thai food. I sat with Lek and some of his friends from school days, who still lived in the area. Neither from them, nor his neighbours, nor his extended family was there ever the slightest touch of homophobia, despite the nature of our relationship being clear. Lek's brother performed Thai and English songs on the guitar with some skill. This was the first time that his mother had ever heard him play. Despite a lot of Lao Khao and Mekhong being put away, and some people being pretty drunk, everything was conducted with the greatest respect for others.
So at 1am, I was escorted back to the hotel, by one of Lek's friends, to sleep alone for the first time, without Lek, since arriving in Thailand, as he would sleep in his home. Generously, Lek had said that if I was lonely and wanted the friend to stay with me, his friend would be happy to, but I was more in the mood for solitude.
The following morning I was again escorted to Lek's home at 7am, when we were to visit the temple where he would be living as a monk, taking food to the six monks who lived there, and meeting his teacher monk, who turned out to be handsome, charming, fluent in English and only 25! We had a good chat, during which I found out that he had been orphanned at the age of six, and taken in to the monastery, where he had been provided accomodation and education, becoming a novice monk, and that he had travelled, paid for by the temple, to India, where he had taken his MA in English.
I was shown the room in which Lek would be living, as one would expect, very spartan and bare. Then we returned to Lek's home to prepare for the journey, by pickups to the larger temple, where he would be inducted. A chair was placed in the back of one of the pickups, on which Lek would sit, like a throne, for the five kilometre journey to the larger temple. I sat in front of that pickup with his mother, who was so supportive of me throughout. I was terribly emotional from time to time, that concoction of emotions of happiness, sadness, and pride in Lek in the way that he behaved throughout with such dignity, simultaneously being as concerned as circumstances would allow at my comfort and wellbeing.
The convoy of pickups and songtaews arrived at the larger temple, where in a procession Lek was required to be carried round the temple three times before entering. I managed one circuit, the village headman the second circuit, and Lek's brother the third. Then we entered the temple to kneel, while we waited for the Abbott who was to conduct the ceremony, and the accompanying six monks to enter. One of these was the teacher monk who had travelled with us in one of the pickups. The ceremony went on about an hour, and consisted of Prayers and chanting, principally in the Pali language, which required a lot of lengthy and memorised responses from Lek, also in Pali. His responses were unhesitating and faultless, spoken in a firm clear loud voice. I had to blink away the tears. There were also questions of Lek, from the abbott, in Thai, about the nature and reasons of his wanting to become a monk. At the end of the ceremony, two of the monks took Lek behind a screen, where they discarded the white tunic and green sarong that he had been wearing since the day before, and he returned dressed in the full Saffron Monks Robes.
I then crawled forward to give an envelope of money to each monk, and to the abbott, as a donation to the temple. These were small sums. Then the teacher monk, Lek and I, and his mother and one friend, got into a pickup to take us back to the small temple where he would be living. When we got there we all tried to comfort each other with varying degrees of success. Lek and I knew that this was the last but one time that we would see each other for sometime. He was also anxious and worried about the time ahead in the temple. We barely spoke, but tears came into both our eyes, and we suppressed them, each to protect the other, because if either of us had cried, the other would surely follow.
Back to the hotel leaving Lek, friendless in the temple, because guess what, the following day was to be an early start!
The next day I was again escorted to his house by his friend at 0600, in order to wait for Lek to pass, barefoot of course, with the other monks collecting food as monks do, in order to offer the opportunity for others to gain merit, by contributing to the monks welfare. As we waited his mother told me stories of Lek as a child and as a teenager. Finally, after many anxious looks by me up and down the road, none of us being sure from which direction they would come, they arrived. I kneeled before Lek, wai-ing, and not daring to look him in the eyes, then stood and placed the food that his mother had prepared in the bowl, his mother and friend followed the procedure, which we then repeated with the other monks. Lek and I exchanged a glance that said everything and nothing, and the monks proceeded, in column, on their way.
What was left but to say goodbye to his mother, we embraced and pecked each other on the cheeks, say goodbye to Lek's friends who had looked after me so well, and to the few remaining members of his family, who had not already returned to other areas of Thailand. Then plane to Bangkok and back to the UK.
I hope that you feel that this was worth sharing with you, I know that it was an experience unlike any other that I will ever have in my life, and I feel in a strange way also cleansed by the sprituality of it."
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"Some time ago, I posted a request for information on this board, asking for information about a boyfriend becoming a monk, and what was involved in the ceremonies etc. No one seemed to have had that experience, or feel able to share it with us. Having now had this experience, well here it is:
For those who don't know, it is the custom in Thailand for young men to spend a period, from a week to three months or more, as a novice monk living in a temple. I think that this custom is becoming less prevalent than it used to be, which is sad. The purposes, as I understand them, are to "tham boon"(make merit) for the parents and in gratitude for their upbringing, for the individual to learn more about Bhuddism, and to give the individual time out to reflect on their life. I have always thought that it was a marvellous idea, and although not Bhuddist, rather wish that I had done this in my youth.
So when my friend mentioned a year ago that one of his dreams was to do this, it seemed such a worthy thing to do that I was keen to help. There are costs involved, which there was no way on his salary that he could afford. As I don't live in Thailand, but visit as often as I can, and work as a freelance, the timing of my trips are unpredictable. I was therefore prepared to make my contribution, with the likelihood that I would not be there at that time. My friend, can I call him Lek for the sake of his privacy, insisted that he would not accept the contribution unless I could be there to share the occasion with him. His father had died several years ago, and I would stand in as the most important male figure in his life. Although I understand that his father still gains merit, even though he has passed away.
So I arranged that I could be there at the time of his induction into the monkhood. Prior to that, the would be monk spends a period of time at the temple, near his home usually, being instructed by the monks, and learning the prayers that are spoken at the ceremony in the Pali language. We arranged that he would do that prior to my arrival in Thailand, so that we could then spend time together as normal, then travel to his home province for the celebrations and ceremony at the end of my trip.
As arranged we travelled to his home towards the end of my trip, and on arrival went to his home, where I was greeted with the greatest of warmth by his mother, and such members of his family who had already arrived. The family being scattered all over Thailand in order to find work. I should say that various members of his family also contributed to the funding of the occasion, each according to his ability to do so. Already there were about twenty people, friends and neighbours, preparing food for the celebrations for the following day. Lek had arranged for us to stay that night in a nearby hotel, where I would spend the next two nights, without Lek, as from the following day sex/physical contact was not allowed. We returned to the hotel that night, both of us full of the strangest mix of emotions. Sadness that it was our last night together, and that we were soon to separate for an indefinite period. Happiness that he was able to achieve his ambition, and that I was able to help. Pride for me in Lek's strength of mind to be able to do this, he was planning to stay in the monkhood for three months, taking nothing to the temple, not even a pair of shoes. Lek had not lived a pure life, he liked his drink, his cigarrettes, the small comforts that he could afford, and his love of music. He was giving it all up.
The next day we travelled to his home at 7am. He was due to first have his hair cut, and then his head and eyebrows shaved around 8am. When we arrived a platform was being set up for the preparatory ceremony that day, canvas roofing and tables and chairs were being set up, and more of his family had arrived from Bangkok, having travelled on the overnight bus. Every single member of his close family was there, the last time that they had been together had been when his father died.
His mother cut the first lock of hair, all of which was collected in a bamboo frond, I confess I don't know why, or what happened to it later. I was then invited to take the next cut, followed by village headman, family and neighbours and friends. The same procedure was then followed with the shaving of the head, although after a number of us had had a bit of a hack, Lek was beginning to look very motheaten. Fortunately at that point a sort of master of ceremonies took over and completed the job. Meanwhile a sound system had been unloaded, which was later to be used, both to amplify the prayers/chanting and to play Ramwong traditional Thai Music for a traditional Thai Dance. Then we sat around the platform in a position of prayer while chants were made by others on the platform, not monks but holy in some way that I could not define.
Lek was kneeling in the middle of the platform, a position in which he was to stay for several hours, now dressed in a white robe over a green sarong. He responded, in Pali, to the chanting, which was interspersed with bursts of ramwong music at which a dozen or so of the ladies would spring into action dancing and one or two of the men. Inevitably the farang, me, was dragged into action also, which provided much amusement of course. I had previously asked Lek for a little coaching, as I knew that this was to happen. But he had told me to just express myself, so I did. For those who don't know the Ramwong, it involves those participating in circling, moving around in a circle and around the other participants, while making expressive hand movements, but never touching the other participants. The Thais of course make it look wonderfully graceful.
Then the music would stop and it was back to the platform and the praying and chanting. This also involved a number of ceremonies, circling Lek with string passed hand to hand by those in the front row, of which of course it was insisted that I was one, bowing with incense sticks, bowing with banana leaves, and making a curious circular movement of the hands, which I think was to ward off evil spirits. The string I think was to symbolise the entanglement of material possessions from which Lek was to be released at the end of the ceremony. Sitting next to his mother, I just followed her lead. Among the aunties and relatives there was a fair bit of discussion, as to exactly what was the correct protocol to follow.
This continued for four hours, during which from time to time, Lek was looking at me, in the lulls, to see if I was okay, and I was looking at him to see if he was okay. In case you think that was a very holy occasion there were also those who were knocking back Lao Kao, white alcohol, in honour of the occasion, and I had the occasional glass. Throughout this time, I was being brought glasses of water also, which were brought kindly to me by Lek's family.
At the end of the ceremony, there was to be a discussion about Buddhism, and it had been agreed that I, with one of Lek's friends, could go back to the hotel, to return in the evening for the main celebrations. The preparation for which had been going on all morning.
On return the party was in full swing lots of eating and drinking, and again Lek's family looked after me royally. I was brought a succession of plates of food, all of which Lek had previously told them were my favourites from Thai food. I sat with Lek and some of his friends from school days, who still lived in the area. Neither from them, nor his neighbours, nor his extended family was there ever the slightest touch of homophobia, despite the nature of our relationship being clear. Lek's brother performed Thai and English songs on the guitar with some skill. This was the first time that his mother had ever heard him play. Despite a lot of Lao Khao and Mekhong being put away, and some people being pretty drunk, everything was conducted with the greatest respect for others.
So at 1am, I was escorted back to the hotel, by one of Lek's friends, to sleep alone for the first time, without Lek, since arriving in Thailand, as he would sleep in his home. Generously, Lek had said that if I was lonely and wanted the friend to stay with me, his friend would be happy to, but I was more in the mood for solitude.
The following morning I was again escorted to Lek's home at 7am, when we were to visit the temple where he would be living as a monk, taking food to the six monks who lived there, and meeting his teacher monk, who turned out to be handsome, charming, fluent in English and only 25! We had a good chat, during which I found out that he had been orphanned at the age of six, and taken in to the monastery, where he had been provided accomodation and education, becoming a novice monk, and that he had travelled, paid for by the temple, to India, where he had taken his MA in English.
I was shown the room in which Lek would be living, as one would expect, very spartan and bare. Then we returned to Lek's home to prepare for the journey, by pickups to the larger temple, where he would be inducted. A chair was placed in the back of one of the pickups, on which Lek would sit, like a throne, for the five kilometre journey to the larger temple. I sat in front of that pickup with his mother, who was so supportive of me throughout. I was terribly emotional from time to time, that concoction of emotions of happiness, sadness, and pride in Lek in the way that he behaved throughout with such dignity, simultaneously being as concerned as circumstances would allow at my comfort and wellbeing.
The convoy of pickups and songtaews arrived at the larger temple, where in a procession Lek was required to be carried round the temple three times before entering. I managed one circuit, the village headman the second circuit, and Lek's brother the third. Then we entered the temple to kneel, while we waited for the Abbott who was to conduct the ceremony, and the accompanying six monks to enter. One of these was the teacher monk who had travelled with us in one of the pickups. The ceremony went on about an hour, and consisted of Prayers and chanting, principally in the Pali language, which required a lot of lengthy and memorised responses from Lek, also in Pali. His responses were unhesitating and faultless, spoken in a firm clear loud voice. I had to blink away the tears. There were also questions of Lek, from the abbott, in Thai, about the nature and reasons of his wanting to become a monk. At the end of the ceremony, two of the monks took Lek behind a screen, where they discarded the white tunic and green sarong that he had been wearing since the day before, and he returned dressed in the full Saffron Monks Robes.
I then crawled forward to give an envelope of money to each monk, and to the abbott, as a donation to the temple. These were small sums. Then the teacher monk, Lek and I, and his mother and one friend, got into a pickup to take us back to the small temple where he would be living. When we got there we all tried to comfort each other with varying degrees of success. Lek and I knew that this was the last but one time that we would see each other for sometime. He was also anxious and worried about the time ahead in the temple. We barely spoke, but tears came into both our eyes, and we suppressed them, each to protect the other, because if either of us had cried, the other would surely follow.
Back to the hotel leaving Lek, friendless in the temple, because guess what, the following day was to be an early start!
The next day I was again escorted to his house by his friend at 0600, in order to wait for Lek to pass, barefoot of course, with the other monks collecting food as monks do, in order to offer the opportunity for others to gain merit, by contributing to the monks welfare. As we waited his mother told me stories of Lek as a child and as a teenager. Finally, after many anxious looks by me up and down the road, none of us being sure from which direction they would come, they arrived. I kneeled before Lek, wai-ing, and not daring to look him in the eyes, then stood and placed the food that his mother had prepared in the bowl, his mother and friend followed the procedure, which we then repeated with the other monks. Lek and I exchanged a glance that said everything and nothing, and the monks proceeded, in column, on their way.
What was left but to say goodbye to his mother, we embraced and pecked each other on the cheeks, say goodbye to Lek's friends who had looked after me so well, and to the few remaining members of his family, who had not already returned to other areas of Thailand. Then plane to Bangkok and back to the UK.
I hope that you feel that this was worth sharing with you, I know that it was an experience unlike any other that I will ever have in my life, and I feel in a strange way also cleansed by the sprituality of it."