Christmas in Khao Lak

 

It’s been years since I last spent Christmas in a place where, around December 25th, it’s actually cold.  For most of the past decade, I’ve experienced the festive season in a country close to the equator, such as Sri Lanka or Singapore, where the temperature outside has been over 30 degrees.

 

For that reason, on Christmas Day, I customarily post a few photos whereby Christmas trees and decorations, bearing wintry images of snow, ice and reindeer, appear against a backdrop of tropical beaches and palm trees.  And I write a few lines where I marvel, “Isn’t this weird?”

 

Well, my partner and I have just spent two weeks in southern Thailand, in the town of Khao Lak, and here yet again is a picture of something Christmassy juxtaposed with something far removed from the snowy north of the world.  This time the photo is of a Khao Lak restaurant that had a Christmas tree standing beside two Thai spirit houses – San Phra Phum, as they’re known locally.  These are the miniature buildings you see outside nearly every Thai home and business, held aloft on wooden pillars like bird-tables, often fragranced by smouldering incense sticks and garlanded with flowers.  Their purpose is to provide accommodation for the spirits residing on the premises and to keep those spirits contented, so that they don’t move into the human building and cause ghostly high-jinks there.

 

 

Inside the spirit house, you get things such as a representation of the angel-like Hindu deity Phra Chai Mongkol, who bears a sword and a bag of money, presumably to ensure protection and good fortune for the house’s ethereal inhabitants; human figures to keep the spirits company; dolls’-house-style pieces of furniture for the spirits’ comfort; and possibly models of horses and elephants, to help them get around.  I’ve even seen spirit houses cluttered with model cars and toy figures, presumably to give the spirits something to play with; and ones bedecked with strings of coloured lights, presumably to allow the spirits illumination after nightfall.

 

While in Khao Lak, I looked for spirit houses that had miniature Christmas trees and decorations put inside them so that the spirits could experience the festive season too.  But I didn’t see any.  Just as well.  I don’t think the spirits would appreciate the gesture.  Imposing Christmas on them would be a step too far in terms of Westernisation.

 

 

Meanwhile, the hotel we were staying at put on a lavish Christmas display in its front yard.  I particularly liked the display’s Christmas tree, which had been assembled out of beer bottles.  Alcohol is the only thing that makes the festive season bearable for many people, so a Christmas tree celebrating beer seems very fitting.

 

 

On the other hand, I have to say the display’s Santa Claus was the most hideous and evil-looking representation of the old fellow I’ve ever seen.  Not only was he wildly cross-eyed, but his face – what could be seen of it above the beard – was a patch of putrid, decomposing brown mush.  I really hope this thing didn’t climb down anyone’s chimney last night.

 

 

Anyway – a Merry Christmas to you all.

Rab Foster does some ghostwriting

 

© Spiral Tower Press

 

Rab Foster, the pseudonym under which I write fantasy – and usually the sweaty sub-genre of fantasy known as sword-and-sorcery – fiction, has just had a second short story published this month.  Entitled The Ghost Village, it appears in issue 8 of the magazine Whetstone from Spiral Tower Press.

 

Described by editor Jason Ray Carney as straddling ‘the line between folk horror and sword and sorcery’, The Ghost Village was inspired by Thailand’s San Phra Phum or, as they’re known in English, Thai spirit houses.  These are the miniature buildings you see outside nearly every Thai home and business, held aloft like bird-tables on wooden pillars, fragranced by smouldering incense sticks and often garlanded with flowers.  Their raison d’être is to provide accommodation for the spirits residing on the premises and to keep those spirits contented, so that they don’t move into the human building and cause ghostly high-jinks there.

 

Once, when I was in the northern Thai city of Chiang Mai, I was passing a construction site.  An old building had just been demolished and a new one was about to be built there.  Nearly everything in the area had been flattened and a digger was prowling around, removing the last of the rubble.  But remaining untouched and intact in the middle of the site were a pair of spirit houses.  Apparently, it’s a bad idea to destroy spirit houses and render their inhabitants homeless.  So even Thai developers who wouldn’t think twice about bulldozering an old human property need to exercise caution in how they treat the miniature dwelling next door to it.

 

 

I had long wanted to write a creepy story about Thai spirit houses, but was wary of penning something that used Thai people’s religious beliefs and cultural practices for a cheap scare.  As someone who’s lived long-term in Asia and Africa, I find stories that have Westerners blundering into ‘exotic’ – shorthand for ‘less civilised’ – countries where they run foul of some local deity, myth or piece of folklore extremely patronising.  Basically, they steal a bit of someone else’s culture to use as a monster or some other source of horror.  So, it made sense to me to take the basic concept of spirit houses – flesh-and-blood people maintaining a second house where beings from the incorporeal world can reside – and put it in a fantasy context instead. Then I could build up my own mythology around it.  What I ended up with was Rab Foster’s latest published story, The Ghost Village. 

 

For more information about Whetstone magazine, click here.  And issue 8, which contains my story and a dozen other works of short fiction and poetry, can be downloaded here for free.