My Thai Cat PDF

PRATOOMRATHA Pratoomratha Zeng was born in Ubol, a northern district of Siam, in 1918. Edu- Zh,NG cated in Bankok, Siam, and at New York University, he has worked for the Siamese A/f M 'T'Jn^'t...

PRATOOMRATHA Pratoomratha Zeng was born in Ubol, a northern district of Siam, in 1918. Edu- Zh,NG cated in Bankok, Siam, and at New York University, he has worked for the Siamese A/f M 'T'Jn^'t t^yri-f- Government. During the war, he was a X ' J-T JL- fOCZl KjCpt translator for the United States Army. SII SWARD was our Thai or Siamese cat in my home town Muang, a northern village in Thailand. She was a gift from my father's friend to me when I was live years old. She had piercing blue eyes and delicate dark brown fur which she constantly cleaned with her tongue. I was completely devoted to her. She was also very popular with my entire family, and later was to be well known in the whole district. During the drought in 1925, our Sii Sward was a heroine; she had the great honor of being elected the Rain Queen. We had been without rain for three months that summer. It was hot and dry. Our public well vvas reduced to mud; the river was at its lowest ebb. The grass and the trees were dry as tinder. Many of the buffaloes and farm animals on our farms died of heat, so we took the remainder to be fed far away on the bank of the river Moon in the north. It seemed as if farming that year would be impossible. We were on the verge of chaos and famine. Already there were reports of forest fires in the other districts. Families from other villages had migrated southwest seeking for new places for farming. Every day the villagers gathered in the village Buddhist temple praying for the rain. All day long the Buddhist priests chanted the sacred ritual for water from the sky. All the farmers were worried and thought only of rain, rain, rain. Then someone suggested that we perform the old Brahmo-Buddhist rain ceremony called the Nang Maaw, the queen of the cats. This ceremony has been performed by the peasants since time immemorial. No exact date can be given when the ceremony asking for the rain started. In Brahmanism, Varuna, or the god of rain, must be pleased. Varuna was the god or guardian spirit of the sea, water or rain. He was one of the oldest Vedic deities, a personification of the all investing sky, the maker and upholder of heaven and earth. It is said that once Varuna who was very militaristic appeared in the form of a female cat to fight a demon. He won the battle and thus continued to give to the world rain and prosperity. Whether the Thai farmers knew the story of Varuna I do not know. All they thought during that time might be only to please Varuna, the god of rain. One day, an old lady and her friends came to my father and begged him to help in the rain ceremony. That day my father approached me and my cat seriously. He patted Sii Sward's head gently and said to me, "Ai Noo (my litde mouse), 849 PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED 850 PRATOOMRATHA ZENG the villagers have asked us to help in the ceremony asking for the rain. I promised them to use our cat—your Sii Sward." I was stunned. How could they use my cat to get rain? I thought of those chickens that the Chinese killed and boiled during their annual Trut-Chine, the Chinese ritual days for sacrificing to and honoring the memory of their ancestors. To have my cat killed and boiled like a chicken! Oh, no. I almost shouted to protest, "Oh, no, father, I cannot let anyone kill my Sii Sward. Rain or no rain, I don't care." In the Thai family, the father is the sole absolute authority of the house; to deny his wish is sinful and inexcusable. My father, however, was a very understanding man. He looked at me coldly and said calmly, "Son, no one is going to kill Sii Sward. Instead of doing that, and because our cat is the most beautiful and cleanest of all the cats in the village, she was elected by the people to be the Rain Queen of our district. This is a great honor to her and to our family." I was reluctant to consent until father said, "We can take Sii Sward back home as soon as the ceremony is over." That evening there was an announcement from the temple ground by the old leader of the village that there would be a Nang Maaw ceremony starting in the afternoon of the following day. Next morning everyone in the village went to the temple ground. The women were dressed in their bright blue skirts, Pha Sin, and white blouses, and the men in their white trousers and the Kui-Heng shirts. Children of all ages put on their new clean clothes; they walked along with their parents. Two artists built up a big bamboo cage and the people fastened flowers and leaves to it and dressed it up until it looked like a miniature castle. At noon time, my cat Sii Sward had her usual lunch of dry mudfish and rice, then my father gave me the great honor of carrying her to the temple ground. Some old ladies brushed and sprayed sweet native perfume upon her proud head. Sii Sward protested vehemently; she struggled to get away, and I had to put her into the adorned cage. However, once inside the cage, she became calm and serene as befitted her role and soon curled up in silent slumber. Buddhist priests came to sprinkle sacred water on her, but Sii Sward slept on. In spite of the heat and the sun, that day people packed into the monastery to see Sii Sward, the Rain Queen, and to pray for rain. They carried the cage into the big Vihara, our best and most beautiful temple; and then the priests chanted a sacred prayer in front of the image of Lord Buddha, Pra Kantharaj (the image of Lord Buddha asking for rain). Sacred water was sprinkled onto poor Sii Sward as a high priest lit a candle near the cage and chanted long moaning prayers in the sacred Pali tongue. In mid-afternoon the sun was so hot that the villagers took refuge under the shade of the big mangoes and Po trees on the temple ground. A group of people began to chant the Nang Maaw song, softly at PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED  MY THAI CAT 851 first, then louder and louder until everyone seemed to shout. Long native drums, Taphone, began to beat in chorus. People started to dance while chanting the song: Oh, mother cat, please give us rain from the sky So that we can make sacred water We need silver for the mother cat We need fish and we need honey If we do not get it, we will be ruined. Don't let the widow down to sell her children. Let them have all white rice To have pleasure, we need gold and silver We want to buy bananas We need provisions for the priests and the people Let us see the lightning and let us have rains Oh, let us have rain. It was a most impressive ceremony and made me feel warm and confident of the queen's powers. Sii Sward still slept peacefully in her adorned cage. Cool as a cucumber, she ignored the noise and the chanting until two men came to her miniature castie and lifted it to their shoulders, and then led the people out of the temple. A procession was formed; two drummers with Taphone drums led the crowd. They beat the drums incessantly as the people chanted and made a lot of noise. After the drummers there were a group of dancers dressed in the Thai theatrical style. They danced in front of the cage as if to perform the show for the Queen of Rain. The procession moved toward the market place. There was a huge crowd following the procession; all of them chanted the Nang Maaw. On the narrow street people laid cakes and water which the pedestrians ate after Sii Sward passed. Some people gave the two men who carried the Rain Queen some rice wine. Both of them toasted the queen and drank the wine happily. These foods and drinks were to impress the Queen of Rain that ours was the land of plenty, and that the goddess of rain must give us water so that abundance of life would be preserved. Sii Sward slept all the way; she was not impressed by the demonstra- tion. Before we entered the open market place there was so much noise; someone fired many big fire crackers. A few women who were traders in powder and perfumes approached the cage and poured cups of sweet-smelling perfume and flowers onto the poor Rain Queen. At this moment, the noise of frantic shouting, of chanting, of fire crackers, and that perfumed water proved to be too much for the poor Sii Sward. More water and perfume were poured and splashed into the cage. Sii Sward stood up, her blue eyes staring at the culprits. Her brown and smooth hair was soaking wet. She began to cry and tried to find the way to escape in vain. PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED 852 PRATOOMRATHA ZENG Seeing the whole condition going from bad to worse, I was almost crying asking father to rescue the poor cat. However, father said that everything would be all right. After a while, everyone seemed to be satisfied giving the Rain Queen perfumes; they stopped the noises completely as if to listen to the tormented noise of the Rain Queen. At that moment Sii Sward stopped crying, too. She was soaking wet and trembling with fear. People chanted softly as they led the procession back to the monastery, even the drummers and the two men who ten minutes ago were chanting frantically now calmed down. Sii Sward continued crying on the way back to the temple as if her heart would break. I was helpless, but I followed the procession closely to the monastery. When we reached the Vihara, the men placed the cage in front of the temple, and then all of them went into the Vihara to pray for the rain goddess again. At this moment, I saw the opportunity to help my poor Sii Sward. Having seen the last person enter the temple, I took Sii Sward out of the cage and ran home with her. At nine o'clock that same night, it was pitch dark. Sii Sward now calmed herself down and seemed to forget the whole event in the day time. She lay down under my bed and slept soundly. My parents were not yet returned from the temple ground; they joined the neighbors praying for rain in the monastery. I still wondered about the whole procession in the day time, but I was too tired and did not know when I went fast asleep. When my people came back from the temple ground at eleven o'clock, there was still no sign of rain. Someone came into my room to see Sii Sward, but seeing us asleep they went out quietly. It must have been about three o'clock in the morning, a sound like a train running and a big hurricane was heard. Later there was a strong sound of thunder over the mountains, and a few minutes later, a shower, a real tropical shower, came down. Everyone in the village got up from his bed. We were happy. The farmers started at once to their farms. It rained for three days, and three nights, and it seemed as if the showers would never stop until the water in the sky would be gone. Our crops were saved. But Sii Sward ignored the whole rain. She slept happily the whole three days. Farmers and their families dropped down to see her afterward. The patted her delicate fur and left dry fish and meat for her, her favorite food. That year the farmers thought that Sii Sward saved their crops and their families. Sii Sward was a heroine. PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED MANUEL A xr T XT Manuel Buaken was born in the Philip- D U A Jv ili IN pines and educated in American univer- sities. In 1943 he joined the First Fihpino T'In/y T—fn'l/'Cfi (^f Infantry, U.S. Army, and was stationed JL UC n u n c UJ at Camp Beale, California. [From Asia Magazine, August, 1943; used by permis- ffiP ^'IDO'Vn *'°'^ " ^ United Nations World.] "BOY, GET RID OF T H A T HORSE," said one of the wise old men from Abra where the racing horses thrive on the good Bermuda grass of Luzon uplands. "That's a bandit's horse. See that Sign of Evil on him. Something tragic will happen to you if you keep him." But another one of the old horse traders who had gathered at that auction declared: "That's a good omen. The Sword he bears on his shoulder means leadership and power. He's a true mount for a chieftain. He's a free man's fighting horse." As for me, I knew this gray colt was a wonder horse the moment I saw him. These other people were blind. They only saw that this gray, shaggy horse bore the marks of many whips, that his ribs almost stuck through his mangy hide, that his great eyes rolled in defiance and fear as the auctioneer approached him. They couldn't see the meaning of that Sword he bore—a marking not in the color, which was a uniform gray, but in the way that the hair had arranged itself per- manently: it was parted to form an outline of a sword that was broad on his neck and tapered to a fine point on his shoulder. Father, too, was blind against this horse. He argued with me and scolded: "Maning, when I promised you a pony as a reward for good work in high school English, I thought you'd use good judgment in choosing. It is true, this horse has good blood, for he came from the Santiago stables—they have raised many fine racers, but this colt has always been worthless. He is bad-tempered, would never allow himself to be bathed and curried, and no one has ever been able to ride him. Now, that black over there is well trained—" "Father, you promised I could choose for myself," I insisted. "I choose this horse. None of them can tame him, but I can. He's wild because his mouth is very tender—see how it is bled. That's his ter- rible secret." My father always kept his promises, so he paid the few pesos they asked for this outlaw colt and made arrangements to have the animal driven, herded, up to our summer home in the hills. "I used to play, but now I have work to do," I told Father. "I'll show you and everybody else what a mistake you made about my horse." Father agreed with me solemnly, and smiled over my head at Mother, but she wasn't agreeing at all. "Don't you go near that bad horse 853 PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED