The People in the Shadows

I wander down the tree-lined dirt path

that eventually becomes a sidewalk,

sensing that stickiness of humidity so commonplace in Thailand.

It’s not long before I start to pass street vendors:

I notice an older man and woman, side by side at their food stall.

The few plastic chairs and modest outdoor tables set up

in front of them remain vacant.

Their Thai cuisine may be simple

but the recipes surely come from decades of perfecting:

a peanut-sprinkled papaya salad so wildly hot it instantly cleanses your nostrils,

Pad Kra Pao, a savory, basily minced pork dish with a fried egg and rice,

and colorful veggies from local farms the man deftly slices with a

sturdy cleaver in a whirlwind of chops; they will soon swirl in a sea of coconut milk, ginger, galangal, and shrimp paste.

The menus and signs for their shop are hand written and worn, but the food

they prepare is of highest quality.

They stand at attention in front of the woks and ingredients

swatting flies and wiping their brows, waiting for the next order to come.

Nearby, a woman with silvery hair pulled back in a bun stands

in a tiny stall, the size of a bedroom. Her shop is sardined with vibrant

dresses and skirts and shirts, many patterns of generations past

that reflect traditional culture, as well as a handful other

attire that mimics Western style. Our eyes meet fleetingly as I nod and I pass her by. She too waits for customers.

Across the street, brilliant, blinding lights shine,

flowing from the windows of a multi-story,

brand-new destination: the mall!

Folks from miles around have flocked here

Their motorbikes and cars and bikes jammed tightly into the surrounding lots.

These shoppers arrive with eager anticipation

to check out new fads and brands and to get the trendiest clothes and gear…hoping what they acquire will up their coolness factor.

The customers stroll inside, onto gleaming, snow-white tiled floors.

Glitzy, monstrous ads plaster every surface featuring

underfed, serious-faced European and American models in outrageous fashion and bold makeup entice buyers to be like them. Pop songs blare from speakers

pulsing in the hearers’ heads and bodies.

The potent smells from the food court bombard the senses:

take your pick of baked breads and pretzels

and donuts and coffee and boba and slushies and ice cream

and pizzas and burgers and fries and steaks and fried chicken…

Western brands that wow their customers

with such excessive volume of saltiness, grease, and sugar.

A flowing flurry of people stream up and down

the infinitely-moving escalator as it pushes its occupants up and down

to the next big sales.

These customers may have fond memory of local foods and vendors

but bright foreign novelties before them glitter and gleam

so much more glaringly and loudly...

I return outside to refreshing night air, the road clogged with

honking cars and motorbikes, many with plastic bags of new purchases

squeezed onto their arms and in their satchels.

As I make my journey home, I can't help but notice the local store owners once again. Tiny shop after shop, dimly lit: outdoor eating areas, small clothing and convenience stores. Though there are a handful of customers scattered about, the air feels thick and hushed.

An elderly woman in flimsy sandals strolls past me.

I’m drawn to admire her long, traditional sarong skirt of alternating golden diamonds amidst a midnight hue. We glance at one another, exchanging smiles.

She walks into the fading light. I few moments later, I look behind me;

she is already gone.

I wonder, will she and the vendors I have passed today's existence

grow dimmer amidst the flashy, seducing intrigue of Western brands

and chain restaurants and foreign fancies? Will outside companies eventually replace local peoples' businesses, foods, and generations of tradition?

Will the sense of community familiarity and connections

wane and fade as one by one, these shops close for good and are replaced by mass-produced commodities and manufactured convenience?

It’s hard to say for sure what the future holds.

I only hope that when people exit that massive mall

hopping onto their motorbikes and into their cars

they look out and remember the people in the shadows.

Photo by Egor Myznik