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By Benjamin Malcolm
Our morning begins early, at 6:30 a.m.
The backhoe operator opens the gate and backs his machine into
our driveway and a clamour of voices and activity begins. It is
the day of our spirit house installation and our neighbours and
landlord's family have come by to be a part of the auspicious occasion.
The blue ceramic pedestals have been up for a full day now, the
spirit house tops lying next to them on the ground and everything
has been moved into the northeast corner of our property. There
is a taller one for the major land spirit, called Phra Phum and
a smaller one for the minor land guardian, the old man spirit known
as Chao Thii.
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People have brought a number of things to add to our most recent
purchase of spirit house paraphernalia. They have brought a whole
cooked pig's head and trays of food to offer the spirits, flowers
and elaborate banana-leaf nine-tiered food holders. A day before,
we travelled into the city to pick up other essentials - ceramic
elephants, a man and woman figurine, candles, cups, checking and
double-checking the list that was handed to us. It's not every day
that you get to shop for a spirit house installation. I ask the
store owner how many people come in for spirit house material during
the week and he says at least once a day. Sometimes there are more,
he says, especially during the more auspicious days.
My fianc? Supalak and I decided to have the new spirit houses installed
a couple of months after we moved in to our little quiet house in
the countryside of Chiang Rai. Neither of us has conducted a spirit
house ceremony before and we figured it would be good to invoke
the proper atmosphere for our change of address. Plus we assumed
it would be a unique experience, something we could always remember.
I'm a Unitarian in my religious background and thus allowed a bit
of freedom in my action and belief. Unitarianism is the religion
of education. This entire ceremony will be educational to be sure.
On the day of the installation, the neighbours, the Brahmin priest
and others mill around and I move groggily out of bed and start
making coffee. The landlord knocks at the front door and tells me
that I should put together 309 Baht as the Brahmin priest's fee.
When we bought the spirit house originally, the total figure also
ended in 9. These are lucky numbers.
Then I'm measured for the spirit house. The Brahmin directs from
the background. "Move it up a little!" he says. "It
should be touching his chin." When I offer food, I should be
standing at chin-level, looking into the front door of the spirit
house. My landlord and others shovel dirt and rocks in to wedge
it up to the right height. I stand stock still, like I was being
measured for height in grade school, trying to realize the importance
of this. We don't have to measure for the smaller one.
Our Brahmin's name is Ajaan Boonmee Jankham. Now 78 years old,
he has been practicing these sacred arts for 50 years. He is an
amiable, lively man, at ease either directing others about, or moving
the bits and pieces of the ceremony into the right place, choreographing
the calling in of good spirits.
"Where are the coloured flags?" he says with some concern.
These have to be wrapped around the pedestal. I know we bought them
in the store. I remember specifically buying them. I locate them
under a box in an alcove under our house, holding them up to general
laughter and relief.
The landlord is getting worried. Isn't it time to start? It's nearing
9 a.m. and it's supposed to get going at 9:09. Lucky numbers again.
Ajaan Boonmee consults his worn booklet and announces that the ceremony
will have to wait until 9:45 a.m.
While we're in our spiritual delay, Supalak and I chat with Ajaan
Boonmee, asking about particulars of Brahmanism and the theory behind
the spirit house installation. He says the houses have to be set
up with figurines to create a sense of "home" for the
spirits, inviting them in and keeping them in their proper place.
The figurines in the house act as servants for the spirit, while
the elephants will be used for transport. The smaller house doesn't
have to be as fancy, as it's the minor spirit. The tall house, the
home of the major land spirit, should receive most of the attention.
He tries to explain further but the explanation gets lost in the
rush to get things done. Supalak attempts a brief translation and
then we're on to other things.
The time is nearly upon us. Ajaan Boonmee prepares his dress, carefully
buttoning his white shirt for the ceremony. The other attendants
and hangers-on spring into action and the embedded gears of ritual
start moving in earnest. People try to remember the specifics …
how many candles should we prepare and where does this go? I ask
if I can add a figurine of baseball player Nomar Garciaparra into
the mix, to bring good luck to the Red Sox, who are in the Major
League Baseball playoffs. Later I find out I can only add male figures
paired with female figurines. Figurines have to enter the house
in pairs. I scour the house, looking for a female counterpart to
my baseball player.
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Suddenly, Ajaan Boonmee, the landlord and others march determinedly
toward the back of our property, into the foliage into the southeast
corner, where the old spirit house is located. It is a home-made
wooden aged house, propped as much as standing against a tree. Ajaan
Boonmee chants as the landlord sprays holy water on to the house.
We need to pay our respects to the old place and alleviate it of
its role as the home of the spirits. They will have a new place
to go now.
The chanting is almost done and the landlord splashes a full glass
of water onto the roof-tiles of the old house, knocks the candles
down and takes firm hold of the structure, sending it to the ground
with a rending crash. It seems an odd act of violence in a sacred
ceremony, but nobody is alarmed. The old house is not needed anymore.
We move back to the new spirit house area. At 10:20 a.m., a full
hour into the ceremony, Supalak and I are called into the midst
of things. We'll be the caretakers of the spirit house and it's
time to realize our part. First, we light candles as the Brahmin
chants our name into the rising morning heat. I feel the sweat on
my back and my face as we light the dozen or so candles and incense
sticks that have been stuck throughout the pig's head. I remember
reading that the spirits can be fooled easily. They can be led to
believe we're offering them a full pig, when we only offer them
the head. This is our offering to them, to invite them to their
new lodging.
We sit and wait for the chanting to stop and I drink in the whole
scene - my friend Jeff roaming about with my camera, the people
gathered on the periphery watching, the rising heat of mid-morning
and the constant chanting behind us. We add the figurines and other
items to the spirit house. A gold princely-looking figure with a
sword, which represents the land spirit, is placed prone into the
main chamber of the house. Supalak wraps the cloth around the pedestal
and the ceremony ends exactly at 11 a.m. as Ajaan Boonmee blankets
everything with holy water.
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We walk about the house and spread the holy water about, spreading
the good spirits of the ceremony to and fro. As we finish, Ajaan
Boonmee gives us final instructions. There's a set of Pali words
to use when removing food. We should offer food every day or at
least every eighth day during Buddhist holy days. We should keep
the spirit houses clean and liveable. If the land spirit is happy,
there will be good fortune and evil spirits will be dissuaded from
entering.
With the ceremony over, people begin to drift away, taking food
and materials with them. The pig's head has disappeared, to be shared
with whiskey. It is a delicacy now that the spirits are done with
it. The landlord, the priest, the backhoe driver and everyone else
are gone. The full heat of the day is upon us and we are left alone,
in the wake of what has been an eventful morning.
We cannot help but smile at our new spirit houses, standing tall
in the full heat of the noonday sun.
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