Interesting Indeed

So I return Thailand, again. And I know exactly what to expect. Wonderful teaching, kindred Asian spirits all gently pulling on my tummy and smiling warmingly. Ever-so-softly chanting with squinted, joy-filled eyes "Furlong Ooin. Furlong Ooin. Furlong Ooin."

Unfortunately for me life doesn't always imitate imagination.

I jumped right back into my teaching routine. It was great to be in a place where I 'knew' I should be. However, things had changed while I was gone. My boss' relationship with his wife was beginning to sour and when your in a close-knit "Christian" community like we were, it took its toll on everyone's conscience.

As a year went by, then two, a cloud of discontent soon descended over us all. Discontent with work, with Mahachai, with life in general I suppose. It wasn't any one event, just an endless maze of obstacles that soon turned monotous for the entire staff.

It was at that time I got a call from a friend who had moved to the north of Thailand(Chiang Rai). He and I had known each other in Bangkok and he had always joked with me saying that "Travis, one day I'm gonna open me an orphanage and I'm gonna have you teach the chitlins to raise cattle." Although from Oklahoma, I am by no means a cattleman. Yet the thought of moving somewhere far away from where I was seemed intriguing.

One day in March I got a call from my friend telling me that he was serious about me coming up to Chiang Rai in June for a year as he was going back to the States on deputation and needed a house sitter. I said to him "Sure why not."

The next night I went in and told my current boss what I'd be doing as of June. It was a bad time for us all and the tension manifested itself in the form of an argument in which petty things were said but we were both too proud to take back. In the end my boss told me that if I wanted to leave for Chiang Rai then don't bother with waiting until June(We're still good friends).

I called my friend in Chiang Rai and told him of my predicament. He said that it was fine with he and his wife if I were to move up immediately. That in fact, they were in Bangkok due to visa problems and they would pick me up at the end of the week.

And that was it. My stint in Mahachai had come to an abrupt end. My classroom antics were to be no more. No longer would I awake to the stench of freshly caught fish and no longer would I enjoy the comraderie of my dear friends. It was indeed surreal to say the least as I sat shotgun in my friend's van; scenery passing outside my dusty window.

After 12 hours we arrived safely at my new home. Chiang Rai is a small, quiet town. Unlike Mahachai where industry plays a central role in the local economy. Chiang Rai is mostly agricultural with some tourism.
I got settled in. The first month I lived with my friends in their sizable 4 bedroom, 4 bath home. Then I found my own little place on the next street over.

Since I had arrived early and since I wasn't going to be all that busy for the next couple of months I decided to see if I could get a job teaching somewhere. I figured it wouldn't be too hard as I had been teaching now for four years in various schools and teaching provincial teacher's seminars as well.

My friend recommended that I apply at a new university outside of town. They hadn't finished construction but the place already had 700 students and when finished it would be 'big.' I arrived at the dean's office for an interview. Although impressed with my previous teaching elsewhere I didn't have the credentials to teach at his university as they tended to employ people who already had a bachelor's degree.

The dean then looked across the table at me and said, "Why don't you come and study in our international program?" I said "What?" He said, "Yeah, come study here, you need a degree anyhow." I asked him "How many international students do you have?" The dean then got a small twinkle in his eye and said "If you come, we'll have One."

The Enlightenment

It is odd to think now, how people fresh out of high school jump right onto a career path to full-time ministry. You might be asking what am I talking about. Well I'll tell you, for I had my own encounter with this subject. The trek from Christian to "full-time Christian."

I ended up enrolled at a bible college in Springfield, Missouri. The place was full of genuine, God-loving people hoping to widen their theological knowledge and find a "position" in full-time ministry.

Even though in agreeable company I have to admit it was a very challenging four months there. Yes, four months. Just as my boss in Thailand had predicted.
You say, "what happened to four years?" and I'd tell you, "the realization that there is no Americanized Spirit-fed Master Plan for all those who seek to have a relationship with the biblical God."

As soon as I began my studies there I knew I was going to learn something. Not because it was a bastion of higher learning but because I quickly realized that I was in it together with people who were just as "messed up" as I was. Does this mean that there were other directionless, spiritual wanderers like myself enrolled in "Bible College?" Absolutley.

The only difference is that most of them didn't know they were directionless, spiritual wanderers. How so?

Well, I think it comes down to our culture and our values as a society. In America and much of the rest of the Western world we tend to take whatever it is that we love or desire and try to organize, regimentalize, administrate and hopefully profit from whatever it is we enjoy the most. i.e., hobbies, talents, relationships(including the one we have w/ God.)

During those four months I studied the Life of Paul and took another class called Old Testament Survey. I also had some other classes but they were too insignificant to really remember. I learned much in those classes about the historical accuracy of the bible and the intriguing lives of various people mentioned in its texts.

Yet it was outside the classroom that I gained most of my knowledge about theology/chrisitanity/personal development.

Through sparse but genuine devotions and endless discussions of legalities, apologetics and personal struggle I soon began to realize just how incredibly "human" we all are and how the redemptive qualities of faith in Christ and behavior that emulated Him applied to all of us. As we were all(every last one of us) in desperate need of that redemption.

"So where were the directionless wanderers?" you ask. Ah, they were the ones bouncing back and forth between the legal barriers they had constructed for themselves, praying they would be "funneled" through righteousness. The ones who pondered incessantly about which law they "or others" had trespassed that day. The same ones who had showed up in places like bible colleges because they were blind to the fact that the peak of a cultivated spiritual relationship with God is when we have the ability to simply "enjoy" the fruits of "His being" in our lives rather than "our being" in His pulpits, sunday schools, etc,etc. In essence, people like me.

Those whose spirituality relied on the adherence of self preservation rather than brokeness and openess with the One whom we so desperately sought approval from.

By the end of those four months I came to the conclusion that bible college was not the place for me. That, although marked with a huge "X" on the map to "Better American Christian Living and Spiritual Satisfaction", this was not the place where I would be happiest in serving God.
I was so convinced that this was true that I left school 2 weeks before school let out(this was I have to admit due to my immaturity and also my .40 GPA).

I arrived home and a day later received a phone call from my former boss in Thailand.
"How's life over there?" I said. "Not so good, I miss Thailand." He said, "Well we miss you here, how about I front you the money for a plane ticket and you can pay me back when you get here." I said, "Excellent." He said, "When do you want it for?" I said, "My sister gets married in a couple of days and I want it for the day after her wedding." He said, "Done."

My dad came home that night and said "If you aren't studying then you need to get a job." And I said," I've already got one back in Thailand and I'll be leaving at the end of the week."
I could tell he was disappointed but I sometimes wonder if this proved to him that Thailand really was my "home." At least for this time in my life.
My sister's wedding was wonderful and the next day both my sisters and my brother drove me to the airport to bid me farewell once more.

Although saddened not to have lived up to my parents expectations I was ecstatic to return to the Land of Smiles. For it was during this time in my life that things would start becoming "interesting" to say the least.

Summoned Once More

After a year and a half of teaching in Mahachai I felt like I had truly found my home. I was a fairly gifted teacher who was loved by his students and made decent money for the time. I had great friends both Thai and Western and I was living a dream as far as being away from Oklahoma was concerned.
Then one day my parents called and I can still remember the sinking feeling as the dialogue turned to my "future." I hate this word at times. Future. Seemingly innocent yet quite the instigator of chaos given the right conditions. You know the conditions are right when you start getting pelted with questions like: " So what are you gonna do in the future? Where do you see yourself in the future? What about------your future?"
As I held the receiver to my head I took in the words that would strip me of my comfort and sense of belonging. Those words: "Maybe its time for you to come home." My reply: "Uh, maybe." They continued: " If you really want to be effective you need to have a degree." My reply: "Uh."
That Christmas I prepared to fly home back to the States.
Over thirty students showed up at the airport to bid me fairwell. As I prepared to go into the gates my boss and roommate came to give me their send-off handshakes. As he took my hand, my boss looked at me and said "4 months. You'll make it 4 months." I said: "I'm going to study for four years." He said: " You fit here."
I walked into the gates and boarded my flight for America. It was a mix of emotions for me as I left Thailand. I hadn't been there very long yet it left such an impression on me. I could still remember the overwhelming joy of my first return trip to America. Would it be the same this time around?
I returned home to my family who had already filled out my application to go to bible college at BBC in Springfield, Missouri.
After a couple of quiet weeks home I got myself ready to go back to school. You know the usual checklist: shirts, ties, shoes, deodarant, notebooks, HIV test, etc., etc..
I was indeed about to embark upon a stint aboard the USS Legal Eagle. The big question was was for how long?

Fat White Man

It is every travelers hope to visit a foreign land, become accepted by the locals and taken into their culture. Well, I was, but not in the way I had intended to. I was accepted not because of my dashing good looks, my huge bank roll or my towering intellect. I was accepted and fawned over because I was,well, "fat."
As I got to know Mahachai and it's surrounding areas better I began to venture out on my 100cc, two-stroke, Yamaha moped. It was a great bike and that thing just wouldn't die. However, I noticed that no matter where I went people were always pointing at me and saying "Furlong Ooin!" At first it was startling, then a bit irritating, finally downright unbearable.
After a long and arduous trek through the verbal gauntlet I found myself in front of a class of Thai adults telling them why I hated their country and culture.
That night I went home and prayed to God that he would give me patience and a love for the Thais as I pretty much detested them at that moment. God didn't reply as I expected. I didn't have a "eureka!" moment nor the sounding of trumpets. In fact, an end to the mental gridlock didn't happen until about 3 months later when I came to a stop light.
I'll never forget coming to a four way intersection with a police checkpoint on the corner. I didn't have a license, a helmet or insurance. I quickly got into the inside lane, snuggled up to a van and crouched down with about 10 other riders avoiding the police as well.
I sat there and sweated for what seemed like an eternity until a policeman noticed by big foreign butt evading him. I didn't know what to do. I was stuck in the inside lane, the light was red and he was making his way straight towards me.
As he approached I straightened from my crouch, trying not to look too conspicuous. He walked up to me, wearing some fake "Gargoyles" and glared at me intently. I knew I'd been had. The officer then did something I shall never forget. Instead of reaching for his ticket book he took in his hand a chunk of my stomach and asked "How much you weigh?" I said, "Huh?" he said, "How much you weigh?" I said "127kg". He then turned around and yelled to the checkpoint in Thai "127!". The officers at the checkpoint then looked at each other in jovial unbelief and shouted back and forth to each other "127,127!".
The curious officer then saluted me and sent me on my way. It was then that I had my cultural epiphane. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. I wasn't handsome, I wasn't rich but I was "different." A good "different" I later learned, as a Thai friend explained to me, that most Thais are intimidated by foreigners but are automatically at home with fat people as we project a certain "warmth." It was from that day on that I full-heartedly accepted my new title. Even to this day I'm still called "Furlong Ooin."

Returning to the Land of Smiles

In October of 1998, having run myself ragged in one unfulfilling job after another I finally stopped running from that conviction in my heart and returned to Thailand.
It was exactly how I'd left it. Loud, smelly and far far from home. I tried to settle in to my new place but I hadn't been there no more than 3 days when I got some wicked "double ended" food poisoning. I didn't have a bed. I didn't have an air-conditioner. No closet. Nothing. I lay on a mat on the floor, profusely sweating and vomiting and asking God if all of this was really "necessary."
After about a week and bowl after bowl of plain rice I began to get better. Thanks to the kindness of my roommate at the time. Everyday he brought me food and more tissue. We quickly became friends and he helped me get settled into living in Mahachai.
Mahachai is an interesting place in the sense that it is one of the raunchiest smelling, dirtiest little cities you can go to and yet it is probably one of the most wealthiest cities in Thailand outside of Bangkok. Why does is stink? How is it economically endowed? Seafood.
Mahachai sits on the Gulf of Thailand and is surrounded not by beaches but by mangrove forests. Every evening the wooden fishing boats go out with their crews of 15 or 20 men and return the following morning with the night's catch. Whether it be fish, shrimp or squid.
And every other week you can see the bigger ships heading out to fish off the coast of Indonesia where Thai sailors currently have fishing rights.
Mahachai can be can interesting place but it definitely takes some getting used to. The great thing about prosperity is the food. As there are literally over a thousand different factories in and around Mahachai people from all over the country come here with aspirations of finding gainful employment. And with them they bring their own cuisine. The variety of food here is often the envy of most other provinces.
However, I was a picky, non-vegetable eating, fatty from "cattle country." Every day I ate the same thing(stir-fried pork with an egg over rice). Not willing to try anything too "exotic" looking.
After getting over my illness I quickly began teaching. It was interesting as I had never taught before yet it came very natural to me. Although the majority of my work was teaching children I did have an hour or two everyday teaching adults. This became quite enjoyable for me. We teachers were given much leeway as to the what we taught and how we taught it.
My idea was to teach things that interested me, for if I was interested in the subject being taught they, the students, would naturally be interested in the subject as well. I'm a very hands-on type of guy and so my students and I would spend time together doing many projects. Video taping mock newscast, building hot balloons or taking them out on weekends for a class on tactical shooting at the local range. Whether it be a science or social project, the students really began to enjoy our time together.
However, the many cultural differences were beginning to wear on me after 3 months. As I've mentioned before I'm not the skinniest of men and I had earned myself a nickname with the Thais. "Furlong Ooin." Which translates "Fat White Man." Funny at first and eventually downright irritating. It wouldn't be long before I snapped.

Towboats, Batteries and Chicken Plants

With cash in hand my mom and I headed off for Houston in her massive, white, gas guzzling F-350. We made the trip in good time and I went into the Kirby Inland Marine offices on monday. After a pleasant chat with the HR officer I was given a slip of paper and some directions to a medical clinic where I would have a physical before beginning work. After some funky mobility tests and blood work I got the job.
Working on towboats was nothing like I'd thought it be. After going through a 12 day deckhand training course with some good but pretty rough men I headed to the boat I'd been assigned to. I ended up on the MV Pecos. The crew was kind and I had my own room. We worked a 30/15 work shift. 30 days on the boat and 15 days off. It was a great feeling to come home to a lump sum of cash in your account but the work environment was a bit tough to say the least. Especially for someone trying to hold on to his faith. In all I was on 5 different boats, as most men don't last more than a month and many boats were undermanned, with a new crew to adjust to every time. After 6 months I once again found myself unhappy and quit.
Since I had come home from Thailand there had always a been a faint conviction that I should return. I never understood it, "why return to a place you weren't particularly thrilled with or don't even really like for that matter?". Yet for some reason I had a constant conviction, not desire, to return to Thailand.
I talk to some Christians and they tell me how God just touched their spirit. How His assurance in any situation fell upon them like a warm blanket. Or how they were struck with awe and wonder at the mission which God had so clearly placed before them.
Not me. I ran from God. I wanted absolutely no part of what he had in store for me. He could keep His will for my life and Thailand too.
My next job was in a battery factory back in Oklahoma. Working 4:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. it was less than pleasant as we donned aprons and sweat pants in the underpaid, time consuming task of manufacturing batteries for those miniature cars 4-year-olds love to drive around the living room. No peace, no satisfaction. I lasted less than a week.
Finally with nothing left(I had spent all my money on I don't know what.) I went down and applied for work at Simmons Processing Plant in Southwest City, Missouri. I was given a job on the night shift packing chicken parts with ice and stacking them on pallettes in the freezer.
Considering the area, the work paid well but it was a job no one wanted. The whole factory was mostly staffed with Mexican immigrants anxious to get ahead and get their kids in school. I was one of a few white guys in our section. At first I was a bit nervous being on the receiving end of the whole minority scene. However, day after day my co-workers impressed me with both their work ethic and their kindness.
It was during this time that I began to listen more to that nagging in my soul. After two months of giving my paycheck to my dad to save for me, I had enough for a one-way ticket to Bangkok. I contacted the host missionary who have invited me to teach and we set a date for me to return to Thailand and begin teaching.

About Face? Maybe Not.

The military. Yes the military that is where boys become men. At the time my brother-in-law was a staff sergeant in the Army as an intelligence analyst. He seemed pretty cool and so did the fellow soldiers he worked with who were always at the house. There was only one barrier and that was my weight. You see I've been rather "fluffy" for quite some time and it was now prohibiting me from becoming a "man."
I wasted no time. I began working out many hours a day and joined Weight Watchers with my sister. Those two weeks of determination were invigorating. Then my dad called.
He said "How's work?" I said "Oh, I'm working out full-time now to join the military." He said "You don't have a job?" I said " Not right now, I will when I finish losing weight." And in a firm tone he uttered the words which I dreaded so much. "Come home now."
I began telling him why couldn't come home. No gas money, no purpose, etc.,etc.. The next day UPS showed up with an envelope that had $200 in it and a note that said "Come home now."
Once again, I packed my bags, loaded up "Ole Blue" and headed back across the barren Kansas prairie.
I arrived back home on Hallow's Eve and hadn't made it completely through the door when my dad said " You need to get a job."
The next day I went into town to buy some groceries for the homestead and ran into my old manager at the grocery store I had worked at in high school. We started talking and he asked what I was doing at the present. I told him I was currently unemployed and he offered me my old job. I thought "why not?"
I donned my apron and went back to work the next day as a stocker/cashier/bag boy. As the holidays came round I began running into old high school friends and teachers. People who were going to community college 30 minutes down the road were going further in life than I was both literally and philisophically.
I carried their bags to their cars in shame. After 3 months, I was adrift in self-pity. I wanted something better, some new scenery, a new skill. Anything.
One wednesday night I was at church and one of the elderly members came up to talk to me. I hadn't seen him in a while and asked him what he'd been up to? He said "Same old, same old." I asked him "What is it you do exactly?" He said "I'm a captain on a towboat in Louisiana."
I talked to him for a half an hour about what a towboat was and where it goes. And then he asked me where I was working. I told him how I was working at the same supermarket I had worked at in high school. It was then he said something that would get me out of my mental atrophy. "They're always looking for deckhands." I asked how much it paid and he said "$100 per day."
The old man then handed me a business card with his outfit's number on it. The next day I called to inquire about the job, the voice on the other end of the line asked me if I could come in the following day for an interview. I in turn asked him where his office was and he informed me that they were located in Houston. "Houston! There's no way I could be there tomorrow but I could be there on Monday." And so it was agreed upon that I'd meet him in his office on Monday.
That afternoon I went and pawned everything I could for gas money and prepared myself for the 14 hour drive to Houston.