Brokers of Morality: Thai Ethnic Adaptation in a Rural Malaysian Setting 9780824891404

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
THE PHONEMIC TRANSCRIPTIONS OF THAI AND MALAY DIALECTS
Part I Introduction
CHAPTER 1 The Study and the Setting
Part II Economic Survival and Its Interethnic Solution
CHAPTER 2 Decline of Siam Village's Traditional Agricultural Economy
CHAPTER 3 Gainful Relations with Outgroup Communities Via Uniquely Thai Institutions
CHAPTER 4 Economic Salvation: A Diffuse Socioeconomic Niche Defined by Ethnic Distinctiveness
Part III How Local Ethnic Boundaries Have Been Reinforced
CHAPTER 5 Communications among Kelantan's Scattered Thai Communities
CHAPTER 6 Enhancing the Importance of Traditional Traits to Accentuate Cultural Differences
CHAPTER 7 The Rise of Microcultural Contrasts in the Context of Socioeconomic Adaptation
CHAPTER 8 Some Cognitive, Social, and Spatial Parameters of Local Ethnic Boundary Maintenance
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Brokers of Morality

Asian Studies at Hawaii, No. 23

Brokers of Morality: Thai Ethnic Adaptation in a Rural Malaysian Setting

By Louis Golomb

ASIAN STUDIES PROGRAM UNIVERSITY OF HAWAII

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS OF HAWAII

Copyright © 1978 by Louis Golomb All rights reserved Manufactured in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Golomb, Louis, 1943Brokers of morality. (Asian studies at Hawaii; no. 23) A revision of the author's thesis, Stanford University. Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Thais in Malaya. 2. Malaya—Race relations. I. Title. II. Series. DS3.A2A82 no. 23 [DS595.2.T53] 301.45'19'59105951 ISBN 0-8248-0629-8 78-4141

To Daniel and Anne Golomb

Contents

Illustrations Tables and Maps Acknowledgments Phonemic Transcription of Thai and Malay Dialects PART

I. INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I . STUDY AND THE SETTING

Choice of Site Research Strategy Network of Thai Villages in Kelantan Religion, Not Politics, in Siam Village Original Settlement of Siam Village Siam Village and Thailand PART

II. ECONOMIC SURVIVAL AND ITS INTERETHNIC SOLUTION

ix ix xi xiii 1 3

3 5 11 14 17 20 29

CHAPTER 2 . DECLINE OF SIAM VILLAGE'S TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

Land Squeeze Statistical Description of Present Land Shortages Agricultural Response to Increasing Land Shortage and the Need for Cash Thai-Malay Agricultural Complementarity Siam Village's Peculiar "Balance-of-Payments" Deficit

31

31 33 39 43 48

viii

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 3 . GAINFUL RELATIONS WITH OUTGROUP COMMUNITIES VIA UNIQUELY THAI INSTITUTIONS

Manooraa Cult Love-Magic and Hate-Magic Specialists Boar Hunters Religious Specialists

54

54 61 72 81

CHAPTER 4 . ECONOMIC SALVATION: A DIFFUSE SOCIOECONOMIC NICHE DEFINED BY ETHNIC DISTINCTIVENESS

Brokers of Morality: A Paradoxical Ethnic Image Increased Employment Opportunities and Marriages of Thai Women to Prosperous Chinese and Indians Conclusion to Part II PART

III. HOW LOCAL ETHNIC BOUNDARIES HAVE BEEN REINFORCED

94

94 103 116 119

CHAPTER 5. COMMUNICATIONS AMONG KELANTAN'S SCATTERED THAI COMMUNITIES

Fairs, Feasts, and Continuity within the Thai Ethnic Category

121

121

CHAPTER 6 . ENHANCING THE IMPORTANCE OF TRADITIONAL TRAITS TO ACCENTUATE CULTURAL DIFFERENCES

Two Fundamental Types of Local Ethnic Boundary Indicators The Intensification of Religious Observance Siam Villagers' Stubborn Determination to Continue Raising Pigs Maintaining Linguistic Contrasts

129

129 131 136 146

CHAPTER 7 . THE RISE OF MICROCULTURAL CONTRASTS IN THE CONTEXT OF SOCIOECONOMIC ADAPTATION

Cultural Separatism versus Cultural Complementarity Religious Pragmatism Selective Antimaterialism "We Thais Don't Raise Water Buffalos"

162

162 164 170 175

CHAPTER 8 . SOME COGNITIVE, SOCIAL, AND SPATIAL PARAMETERS OF LOCAL ETHNIC BOUNDARY MAINTENANCE

Diversionary Boundary-Marking Phenomena Rural Cultural Models for Local Thai Assimilation Spatial Determinants of Interethnic Relations "Public Facilities" as Foci for Interethnic Interaction Conclusion to Part III Notes Bibliography Index

181

181 188 189 195 199 203 219 227

Illustrations

PLATE PLATE PLATE PLATE PLATE

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Thai love-charm practitioner preparing charm Chinese hunter delivering boar carcasses to Thai temple Chinese consulting with Siam Village abbot Thai and Malay players in mahjong shed Thai women being ordained in Siam Village

65 79 84 98 135

Tables

1. Intertranslatability of Local Thai and Malay 2. Freshwater Fish Names TABLE 3. Saltwater Fish Names TABLE TABLE

147 153 154

Maps

MAP 1. Siam and Melayu Villages MAP 2. Kelantan and Surrounding Areas MAP 3. Public Gathering Places in Siam Village for Passersby of all Ethnic Groups

4 22 197

Acknowledgments

This monograph is a revision of my dissertation which was submitted to the Department of Anthropology, Stanford University, in 1976. The field research upon which the study is based was carried out between October 1973 and December 1974.1 am grateful to the National Institute of General Medical Sciences and the Center for Research in International Studies at Stanford for their generous financial support during those months. I was fortunate to receive additional assistance from the Danforth Foundation and the National Institute of Mental Health, during the period of writing up the research. Without the unflagging cooperation and hospitality of the people of Siam and Melayu Villages, the research would not have been possible. Despite my continuous barrage of questions about countless aspects of their daily lives, the villagers never lost their patience, and even went out of their way to make me feel at home. I especially want to thank Caw Nuj and Cikgu Awang (both personal and village names are pseudonyms) for their valuable assistance in administering censuses and carrying out interviews. From the earliest drafts of the research proposal to the final draft, I benefited from the constructive advice and ceaseless encouragement of Charles Frake, Michelle Rosaldo, and my dissertation committee chairman, Robert Textor. Jacob Bilmes provided valuable suggestions for revisions of the manuscript during its preparation for publication. I wish to express my gratitude to all of these people for their complementary contributions to the finished product, while noting that they are in no way responsible for any errors of fact or interpretation. To my wife

xii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Sylvia and my parents I am also indebted for their moral support and patience throughout the long months of writing. Finally, my thanks go to Dean Awang Had bin Salleh, Deputy ViceChancellor of the Universiti Malaya, for his kindness in serving as my sponsor in Malaysia. Hopefully, the harmonious, symbiotic interethnic relations described in these pages will serve as a model to stimulate continuing cooperation among Malaysia's heterogeneous cultural groups.

THE PHONEMIC TRANSCRIPTIONS OF THAI AND M A L A Y DIALECTS

THAI

Although the syntactic and semantic structures of Kelantanese-Taag Baj Thai and Standard Thai contrast in many ways, the phonemic features of the two dialects are quite similar. Except for differences in tonal phonemes (Kelantanese Thai has six tones while Standard Thai has only five; see Brown, 1965:86, 135), the one other common phonological difference between the two dialects is the Kelantanese consonant phoneme fl found in some of the contexts where Standard Thai calls for j. These contexts correspond to the distribution of the viti combination in written Thai (Brown, 1965:29). Otherwise, there are only a few words in the Kelantanese Thai dialect which fail to follow predictable rules for phonological change, for e x a m p l e , r a t h e r than taaj for "die, dead." I have chosen not to include tone markers in the present transcription, partly for reasons of typographic ease and partly because tonal differences play no significant role in subsequent discussions of linguistic data. Below are listed the symbols for consonant and vowel phonemes as they appear in Haas, 1964:xi. Consonant Phonemes

Stops:

Vd. Unasp. VI. Unasp. VI. Asp. Spirants: VI. Unasp. Sonorants: Vd. Semivowels Vd. Nasals Vd. Lateral Vd. Trill or Retroflex

Bilabial

Dental

Palatal Velar

b Pphfw m

d tths-

cch-

n

(«)

1r-

"g kkh-

T)

Glottal ?

h-

xiv

PHONEMIC TRANSCRIPTIONS

Vowel Phonemes

High Mid Low

Front

Central Unrounded

Back Rounded

i, ii, ia e, ee e, ee

y, yy, ya a, 33 a, aa

u, uu, ua o, oo 3,33

MALAY

In discussions of Malay concepts, I have tried to use the official Standard Malaysian orthography as it was prescribed in 1973. On occasion, Wilkinson (1959) was consulted for more esoteric vocabulary, and the latter's rendition of literary Malay may differ slightly from current spelling practices. My phonemic transcription for the Kelantanese Malay dialect is modeled after de Queljoe's (1971) notational system for Patani Malay phonology. The phonetic features of Patani and Kelantanese are very similar. Melayu villagers, however, did not pronounce h in initial position. I would also suggest that vowels i and e are allophones for the same phoneme as are u and o. The only consonants to appear in final position are h, q, and q. Below are listed the phonemes for Kelantanese Malay. Consonant Phonemes (Alveo-) Bilabial Alveolar Palatal Velar VI. Vd. Affricates: VI. Vd. Fricatives: VI. Semivowels: Vd. Nasals: Vd. Lateral: Vd. Trill: Vd. Stops:

t d

P b

Ö J

s w m

y A

n 1

Uvular Glottal

k g

q

r

h

0

Vowel Phonemes Front High

i e

Mid Low

Central

Back u o

Close Half-Close

3

Half-Open

a

£

a

Parti Introduction

CHAPTER 1

The Study and the Setting

T H E CHOICE OF SITE

In choosing Siam Village as the focal Thai community of my study,' I believed that I had found one of the best places on the Malay Peninsula to observe ongoing, multifaceted interaction between Thai and Malay villages. Two weeks of reconnoitering in the Kelantan Plain had turned up several Thai villages of varying size and isolation. However, Siam Village's forty-one households, located more than ten miles away from any other Thai settlements, and entirely surrounded by Malay villages, represented a rather ideal community in which to acquire an in-depth understanding of intra- and interethnic social relations. In time I could become familiar with all villagers as individuals rather than simply approaching them as statistical units. Then I could achieve a firmer grasp of the circumstantiality of observed interactions between ethnic groups. In particular, I could determine to what extent villagers' actions were governed by personal or by role-specific considerations. Anthropologists (for example, Geertz, 1973) have long argued that such a comprehensive knowledge of the social and cultural context is crucial to the accurate interpretation of any ethnographic data. Through Siam Village curved a feeder road (see Map 1) along which numerous neighboring Malay villagers passed on their way to and from the rice mills, markets, and coffee shops that lined the two-lane asphalt highway a little more than a mile away. In a small shed behind one of the village's sundries shops, Malay and Thai villagers took shelter from the tropical sun, whiling away the midday hours around a pair of makeshift mahjong tables. Alternating intervals of calm and excitement marked the staging and denouement of each mock combat culminating in the solemn

o BO cd

>

£ iS T3 S •o ccd a 5s5

STUDY AND THE SETTING

5

exchange of plastic poker chips, the symbolic spoils of victory. Not far away, in the temple compound, evidence of Chinese influence could be seen everywhere. On many of the buildings and monuments, painted in large roman letters, were the names of those Chinese who had contributed to the construction of each edifice. In the center of the compound stood a handsome saalaa, or rest pavilion, embellished with Chinese dragons and surrounded on its four sides by sculptured representations of Thai, Indian, Japanese, and British soldiers. Villagers suggested that the old Chinese who had created and donated the structure had wished to portray the theme of interethnic harmony. Finally, among the village's ubiquitous barefooted children could be discerned surprising racial variation indicating a considerable admixture of Chinese and Indian elements. THE RESEARCH STRATEGY

Here in this colorful community, I planned to analyze the contexts in which Kelantanese Thai ethnic identity has been defined and redefined during the process of socioeconomic adaptation in a culturally plural Malaysian environment. Conversely, I was eager to discover how objective differences in Thai and Malay cultural traditions might have influenced the nature of the local Thais' adaptation to their surroundings. Like Cohen (1974:xviii), I have been especially interested in "ethnicity" as an informal organizational strategy enabling otherwise powerless individuals to articulate their political and/or economic interests as members of a distinctive cultural category. For the purposes of this study, I have chosen to regard "ethnicity" roughly as the process whereby certain cultural contrasts come to function as the bases for (1) the organization of complementary economic roles between groups, and (2) the structuring of intergroup social interaction. A cultural group is considered here as an "ethnic" group only when its members are perceived as sharing certain constellations of cultural traits which specifically distinguish them from members of surrounding groups. Such a constellation of a group's distinctive cultural features—rather than the totality of its cultural traditions—constitutes the contents of the group's "ethnic identity." The individual distinctive features constitute its "ethnic traits." Barth (1969:14) has argued that ethnic traits generally evolve as contrastive elements of intergroup cultural dichotomies. These dichotomous cultural features serve as the primary signals of ethnic boundaries during social interaction. A major aim of this research has been to identify and examine in detail those cultural boundary-markers in operation during interactions between Siam Villagers and neighboring Malay villagers. Such dispersed communities as Siam Village which claim membership

6

STUDY AND THE SETTING

in the Kelantanese Thai "ethnic category" share many of the same fundamental cultural traditions; with varying degrees of enthusiasm, they all pay tribute to this common cultural heritage. However, each independent village has likewise evolved its own microcultural traits to help it better exploit its immediate socioeconomic environment. The latter traits do not arise in isolation; they are the products, in many cases, of tacit understandings arrived at among neighboring ethnic communities as to what roles each shall perform in specific interaction contexts. As will become evident in this study, more often than not, the roles of interacting ethnic groups incline toward complementarity where interaction is desirable but toward stark exclusivity where assimilation is feared. These two tendencies, I believe, can be readily detected by studying the way specific cultural differences are used metacommunicationally in social interaction, and by discovering what kinds of goods and services are exchanged along ethnic lines in various contexts. Originally I had planned an intensive study of sustained social interaction between neighboring Malay and Thai villagers in a limited number of settings such as markets or coffee shops. I found, however, that many of the most significant interethnic ties involved villagers from quite distant areas and that interaction in these cases was only sporadic and elusive. It became apparent that the relations which Siam Villagers cultivated with their Malay and Chinese countrymen were unusually complex. Not only did their interethnic social ties extend over an area of hundreds of square miles, but the nature of these ties also varied depending on the distances they spanned and the kinds of goods and services exchanged. To arrive at a more complete understanding of these ties, I devised a very simple procedure consisting in selective participant observation prompted by findings from structured and unstructured interviews. Informants were asked about what sorts of activities they participated in with Malays and Chinese. After determining where and when these activities took place, I would endeavor to be present at future ones. From all informants I also elicited lists of characteristics which they believed distinguished their own group from the different outgroups. Thorough investigations of each distinctive trait were then carried out among members of both in- and outgroups to ascertain the function, if any, of that trait in structuring intergroup relations. Considerable time was spent comparing present with past incidence of the traits. Explanations were requested concerning the adoption of more recent additions. Later I visited several parts of Kelantan and neighboring regions to verify whether the distinctive traits of Siam Village corresponded to those of comparable Thai communities elsewhere. All along, I paid special attention to the process of gradual assimilation of the Thais to their predominantly Malay surroundings. Within various symbolic channels—language, diet, clothing, agricultural prac-

STUDY AND THE SETTING

7

tices, religious observance, and so on—what conscious or unconscious attempts were being made to stave off assimilative pressures? And why were stands taken on the preservation of particular elements within these channels (for example, pork, representing food) while other related cultural distinctions were merely permitted to disappear? A large quantity of linguistic data was recorded on tape and paper to illustrate the reluctant convergence of the local Thai dialect with Kelantanese Malay. Lexical domains were elicited during formal interviews; then stylistic variations in some domains like agricultural terms were taken note of in conversations with different groups of Thai speakers. Thai-Malay codeswitching regularities were also attended to in interaction with Malays and Chinese. Many of the lexical data were elicited during my first months in the village when I was occupied with achieving some control over the local dialects of Malay and Thai. Two-and-a-half years of experience using Central Thai as a Peace Corps volunteer and researcher, and six months of intensive Indonesian-Malay language study enabled me to make myself understood from the outset; but understanding most villagers was another matter. Only those who had received some formal education in religious institutions or schools, or who had lived outside of Kelantan for a while, could speak standard Thai or Malay with any facility. It was from this latter group that I chose my first assistants, who acted primarily as interpreters and linguistic informants. All Siam Villagers were bilingual, speaking both Thai and Malay local dialects, but Thai assistants were neyer asked to accompany me into monolingual Malay villages. For surveys and interviews in Malay communities, I was occasionally assisted by two literate Malay villagers who were highly respected by their neighbors and could verify informants' responses. They were also most helpful in weeding out "Thai-isms" in my Kelantanese Malay speech. During those early months, just by being in the villages, I learned a great deal about the kinds of activities which drew the different ethnic groups together. As it turned out, rather frequent, impersonal interaction between members of adjacent Thai and Malay communities was part of the daily routine. Thais patronized Malay coffee shops and market stalls but almost never congregated there on a regular basis, as did small groups of Malay men. Almost all overt interaction with outgroup neighbors, beyond simple greetings, took place in contexts where business was being transacted. Malay men and women regularly came by the Thai village to purchase wholesale lots of agricultural produce to be resold at the subdistrict market. Members of the two ethnic groups sharecropped each other's lands, bought each other's cattle, and transplanted or harvested each other's paddy. Both groups milled their rice at the same Malay-owned rice mills and hired the same Malay-owned tractors to plow their fields. Although Malay and Thai paddy fields were often in-

8

STUDY AND THE SETTING

terspersed, people generally went about their own chores, preferring not to linger in chatter. These were so-called secondary social relationships (see Berreman, 1972:574)—common in culturally plural societies—in which people related to one another as occupants of a limited number of social statuses within broader ethnic categories. Thus so-and-so from the neighboring outgroup village, whom one had greeted for thirty years on the way to the market or while harvesting in the fields, was known to own so much land, live in such-and-such a house, and have so many children; but in most cases, little was known of the role that person played in his own village, and it was unlikely that one had ever entered his house, though one had passed it a thousand times. But a sizable number of "primary" relationships (Berreman, 1972:574) did exist between Thai and Malay villagers. These more personal, holistic relationships, often continuing for a lifetime, grew out of joint participation in activities like hunting, gambling, and the performing arts which fostered mutual trust and respect. Such activities commonly included elements of excitement, risk, secrecy, or relaxation from socioreligious restraints. For the most part, these were relationships between individual Thai and Malay men from rather widely separated villages. Camaraderie between them was primarily acknowledged by temporarily casting off or playing down the emblems of ethnic pride and exclusivity. Thus, for example, Muslim Malays, who never overtly touched any food prepared by non-Muslim neighbors for fear of contamination, would graciously partake of any dishes specially prepared by close Buddhist-Thai friends, who were trusted to omit any ingredients tabooed by Islam. This symbolically meaningful commensality could only take place when well removed or, at least, well concealed from the pietistic vigilance of orthodox Malay-Muslim neighbors. Thais, on the other hand, were less inclined to utter asides in their own idiom in front of these close Malay friends and were less inhibited about openly discussing the pros and cons of the two religious traditions. As Freedman (1960) and others have implied regarding the structure of ethnic relations in Malayan plural society, the somewhat rigid protocol prescribed for interacting representatives of different ethnic categories has always been subject to modification by local groups or individuals who form close social ties across ethnic boundaries. Transcendental ties, in turn, may lead to a reorganization of certain structural features of both groups. In time, it became apparent how these ties contributed to the economic survival of Siam Village and the reduction of conflict in surrounding Malay villages. I have dwelt perhaps overly long on the contrast between the normative impersonal relations marking the social interstices between adjacent ethnic communities and the more involved personal associations at-a-distance among individual members of the Malay and Thai ethnic categories. This digression was deemed necessary to account for the relative

STUDY AND THE SETTINO

9

paucity of interesting data collected concerning everyday interactions between most neighboring Malay and Thai villagers. Social pressures existed for members of adjoining ethnic communities to behave toward one another as representatives of homogenous cultural groups striving to preserve their distinctive traditions. Exclusionary norms, such as the prohibition of commensality, were brought into full operation to strengthen ethnic boundaries where they were in most danger of penetration by alien influences. Conformity to impersonal, stereotyped social roles vis-à-vis outgroup neighbors precluded more intense forms of interpersonal involvement. However, the performance of contrastive ethnic roles seemed less meaningful in the absence of sanctions from one's peer group—in contexts where people in distant outgroup villages could be more comfortably responded to as whole persons. This relaxed, personalized atmosphere spawned symbiotic alliances between Siam Villagers and distant Malay friends, wherein individuals from both groups derived economic and social rewards. Together they were able to capitalize on their cultural differences, using them to more fully exploit their natural environment rather than to simply demarcate social boundaries. There were, to be sure, a few less parochial nonconformists in contiguous communities, and it was these marginal types, not necessarily the most respected or powerful members of their own villages, who served as intermediaries between ethnic communities in times of potential conflict, or as negotiators for informal intervillage cooperation in such projects as the digging of irrigation canals. It is of some consequence that practically all relationships between adult members of adjoining Thai and Malay villages were cultivated within the territory of Siam Village, rather than in bordering Melayu Village.2 Albeit only a few strides separated the houses on the border between neighboring communities, Thai villagers seldom entered Melayu Village except on an errand, such as milling rice, buying something at a coffee shop, or pursuing some other business transaction, and when passing through on the way to some distant settlement or pasture land. Small groups of Malays,3 in contrast, were to be found during a large part of every day, congregating at one of several Siam Village houses, the mahjong shed, the sundries shop, or even under a shady tree in the temple compound. At first glance this territorial imbalance was attributed to asymmetrical power relations in which members of the dominant Malay majority might encroach upon the territory of the weaker Thai group when they wished to let off some steam. Malay backsliders, in fact, did seek refuge from Muslim socioreligious constraints within the confines of the Thai village but not at the Thais' expense. Monitoring their activities required considerable finesse but the results proved most interesting. What is worthy of note here is that Thai prosperity came to depend more and more on services rendered to these Malay visitors from nearby and faraway communities. Siam Village, and

10

STUDY AND THE SETTING

not neighboring Malay villages, was the locus of most sustained interethnic social activity. Finally, some commentary on the local Chinese is appropriate. Originally, I had not anticipated the many-sided relations that Kelantanese Thais entertained with various scattered pockets of rural and urban Chinese. In the realms of religion, economics, politics, and kinship, important symbiotic alliances were operative between these two ethnic minorities. There was little evidence that Chinese cultural influences might be considered detrimental to the ethos of the Thai community; on the contrary, almost everything Chinese could be considered a positive cultural model, whereas the Malay equivalents more often served as negative models. Data regarding Thai-Chinese relations will appear throughout later discussions of Kelantanese Thai religious institutions and economic adaptation. Due to my ignorance of the local Chinese customs and my inability to speak the prevalent Hokkien dialect of Chinese, it was impossible to capture the fine points of Thai-Chinese interaction styles or to determine exactly to what degree local Thai culture had been influenced by the Chinese. Whatever mutual influences there were, however, were of an assimilatory nature, often as a common response to the same external pressures from the Malay majority community. Extensive interviews were carried out with both rural and urban Chinese regarding their relations with, and perceptions of, the local Thai people. The languages used were Malay, Thai, and English. Where possible, I accompanied Siam Villagers to Chinese social or religious functions and observed the activities of Chinese visitors at Thai temples and homes. Partly because there were only a few pure Chinese living in or near Siam Village, and partly because Chinese and Thais usually occupied complementary economic and social roles, they were seldom in competition for the same resources, unlike neighboring Malays and Thais, who were all paddy farmers facing land shortages. As ethnic categories— rather than individual persons—the Chinese were like a patron class and the Thais, a client class. Although this arrangement was conducive to institutional harmony and cooperation, especially in the religious and economic sectors, it did not lead to a great many intimate primary relationships, except between spouses in mixed marriages. The disparities in wealth and education between the two groups sometimes proved to be insurmountable obstacles in their social integration. Mostly, it was the fairly well-to-do and/or well-traveled Thai villagers who cultivated friendships with rural Chinese of comparable means and wisdom. Otherwise, Chinese benefactors at the village temple or employers in the towns were strictly looked upon as generous patrons to be properly accommodated. Considerable data were collected which illustrate how Siam Villagers' re-

STUDY AND THE SETTING

II

ligious and secular values had evolved under the influence of Chinese patronage. For instance, I found indications of increasing religious pragmatism concomitant with the "commercialization" of the traditional Thai roles of religious and magic specialists. T H E NETWORK OF T H A I VILLAGES IN KELANTAN

Starting from Siam Village one can trace a network of Thai villages extending over the 600 square miles of the Kelantan Plain and spilling into the neighboring state of Trengganu to the south and Thailand's Naraathiwaad Province to the north. Although the kinship and social ties of this network transcend the boundaries of the modern Malaysian state of Kelantan, the state remains the political and cultural homeland with which most of these villagers identify. To Siam Villagers, any Thais born in Kelantan remain Kelantanese no matter where they eventually settle.4 A century of coresidence with rural Kelantanese Malays and Chinese has meant considerable cultural assimilation. Regardless of religious and/or racial differences, all groups enjoy many of the same basic regional foods,5 speak the same local dialect of Malay, and identify with the same physical surroundings. Kelantan, in the remote northeastern corner of West Malaysia, has developed in relative isolation from the more modernized, secularized Malay states on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula. To the south and west, mountainous, impenetrable jungle long sealed off the alluvial plains of the Kelantan River from the sizable nineteenth- and twentiethcentury migrations of Chinese,6 Indians and Indonesians who, together, now constitute a majority of the population of the west coast states. The overwhelming majority of Kelantan's inhabitants, more than 92 percent, are Malays, most of whom are descendants of the rural villagers who inhabited the area before the advent of British intervention. Dob by (1951:226) notes that the population of the Kelantan Plain has always been remarkably self-contained, subject to few outside cultural influences other than those arriving by sea from Java and along the coast from Thailand. The amalgamation of these elements within the local cultural context produced a singular collection of visual and performing arts which have come to symbolize Kelantanese regional pride. The local Thai minority, comprising only about 1 percent of the state's 700,000 inhabitants, has contributed considerably to this exclusively Kelantanese cultural tradition. While in Kelantan, I counted 29 Kelantanese Thai settlements ranging from 6 to over 250 households, including 1 village just across the Trengganu border and 1 community in Thailand's Naraathiwaad Province (see p. 21). In addition, there are numerous rural Chinese communities using the local Thai dialect as their first or second language;7 three of these

12

STUDY AND THE SETTINO

(Tanooi], Kulim, and the Chinese half of Malaj) have constructed and now support fully staffed Thai temple compounds. The greatest concentration of Kelantanese Thais is found in the area surrounding the town of Tumpat along the border with Thailand. Directly across the Golok River is the Thai district of Taag Baj, the original dwelling place of many Thai settlers in Kelantan. The density of Thai settlement and the common Thai dialect of the Tumpat-Taag Baj area suggests that this region was the source from which later, more scattered and distant settlements, like Siam Village, emanated. All but three of the Thai villages in Kelantan share the same local dialect. These exceptions include two coastal communities located to the south along the coast, toward Trengganu. The latter two settlements, along with a small inland colony of emigrants, speak a second Thai dialect differing markedly in its tonal system from that of the Tumpat-Taag Baj area (see Kershaw 1973:4), but reflecting a long period of contact in its lexical convergence. This dialectal disparity and the apparent antiquity of the coastal settlements indicate independent migration, probably by boat along the coast, from some Thaispeaking area further north in present-day Thailand. It is noteworthy that there are no urbanized Kelantanese Thais. First and foremost, these people are paddy farmers; everyone who can, grows at least enough rice to feed his family. Where paddy land is scarce or lacking, people must seek a livelihood cultivating rubber, tobacco, coconuts, fruits or vegetables, raising pigs, making various products like roof tiles, bricks or straw mats, or hiring out as sharecroppers, tappers, or laborers for Chinese firms. Only a handful have received sufficient education to take white-collar jobs, mostly as teachers. In fact, no two village economies are the same. As our study of Siam Village will illustrate, the occupational activities of Thai villagers vary depending on such environmental factors as village size, distance from other Thai villages, availability and quality of land, and the economies of neighboring Malay villages. Some Thai villages are closely affiliated with Malay or Chinese villages, others practically avoid sustained interaction with other ethnic groups. Some interact extensively with other Thai villages while others lead a more independent existence. Depending on ecological adaptations, neighboring Thai villages may be interdependent trade partners or potential competitors for prized resources. Amidst all of this variability one finds individual villages evolving their own microethnic identities based on local cultural contrasts with their immediate Malay outgroup neighbors. Sometimes neighboring Thai and Malay villages have dichotomized, so it seems, the production of certain goods and services along ethnic lines, thereby stimulating a healthy economic interdependence while revitalizing ethnic distinctiveness. In time, these complementarities have become ingrained local traditions.

STUDY AND THE SETTING

13

The overall picture becomes one of remarkable cultural diversification, linked to the preservation of what Lehman (1967:106-107) calls the "ethnic category." Faced with menacing assimilative pressures, each Kelantanese Thai village is left to negotiate its own definition of "Thainess," which it presents as a united front to its Malay neighbors. In some cases the elaboration of this ethnic distinctiveness figures as an excellent strategy for exploiting otherwise implausible ecological niches. As we shall see, the villagers of Siam Village, in fostering a particular group image, are able to enjoy a relatively comfortable living standard in a situation which other, less specialized groups would find economically intolerable. Abner Cohen (1974:xviii) might conclude that Siam Villagers have unconsciously "politicized" their ethnicity (in the most general sense), using "cultural mechanisms . . . to articulate the organization of their grouping," instead of organizing themselves into a formal interest group. Only in the last decade have attempts been made—by a few politically conscious Thai-Chinese and members of the tiny, Thai educated elite'—to create an ostensibly religious, supravillage organization to represent the political interests of Kelantan's Thai minority. Cautious inertia and chronic infighting between two factions of this Thai-Buddhist Association of Kelantan have impeded its development. It accomplishes little more than assisting villagers in obtaining permits for holding temple fairs; however, it has made some villagers aware of the possiblities for the eventual creation of a politicized Thai "ethnic bloc" growing out of the current amorphous Thai "ethnic category" (see Freedman, 1960: 167). The very notion of nonautocratic Thai political leadership at the supravillage level has been foreign to traditional Kelantanese Thai thinking. Though Thai villagers are enfranchised Malaysian citizens, they remain, for the most part, politically apathetic and uninformed as to current issues. Nevertheless, subtle social pressures from without assure large turnouts of Thai voters at national elections. Those who are concerned enough to vote selectively usually consult more urbanized Chinese friends and relatives to align themselves with the latter in opposition to those candidates or parties who most zealously promote preferential treatment for Malays. We shall see later on how Kelantanese Malay political superiority and religious exclusivity have catalyzed the social and cultural integration of Kelantan's 6 percent Chinese, 1 percent Indian, and 1 percent Thai minorities. In the absence of any supravillage Thai political organization, communications among Kelantan's Thai villages and especially the more remote ones, are fostered mostly by Buddhist religious institutions, and formerly, to a lesser extent, by intervillage organizations of the performing arts. The circulation of monks and temple boys, the elaborate temple

14

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fairs providing contexts for courtship and new friendships, the troupes of itinerant dance-drama and shadow-puppet performers—all will be discussed in detail. In chapter 5,1 shall argue that the confinement of intervillage activities primarily to the religious and recreational arenas (except among close kin) and the infrequency of intervillage contacts allow for the coexistence of divergent and even contrasting constellations of microethnic cultural traits in a viable, if attenuated, Thai intervillage social network. The importance of the Thai Buddhist temples as cultural and social foci cannot be overemphasized. Villagers insist that a Thai settlement without resident monks is simply not a full-fledged Buddhist community. Settlements of no more than a couple of households will endeavor to construct at least temporary resting places for monks (saalaa) so that they may at least summon monks from other villages to participate in such rites as housewarmings and funerals. Traditionally, to be officially certified, a temple compound had to have a bood, or consecrated sanctuary; villagers, accordingly, would construct the bood as part of their plans to establish their own religious center. In recent years, however, the most costly temple structures have not necessarily been the most sacred. Kelantanese Thai temples nowadays seldom serve their adjacent village communities exclusively. Many a parish consists of Thai and Chinese devotees from isolated pockets throughout the surrounding countryside, not to mention wealthy urban Chinese from Kota Bharu and elsewhere who richly endow their favorite temples. A few villages like Siam Village seem to be overshadowed by their resplendent temple compounds which have evidently been designed to meet the needs of, and provide all the modern comforts for, their citydwelling benefactors when they come to consult the famous abbot or simply to make merit. It is noteworthy that at Siam Village, the most elegant structure is the "kitchen" (khrua) in which visitors are fed and lodged. Because of its enormous size, this building is occasionally used instead of the smaller wihaan as the setting for meditation and sermons, especially during important religious ceremonies heavily attended by outsiders. The wealthy, sporadic attenders aside, the temple binds together on a regular basis a much larger community than the immediate host village. I have counted twenty Thai temples in fourteen Thai and three Chinese villages in Kelantan. To varying degrees each functions as a ritual center for other, smaller rural satellite communities covering the whole Kelantan Plain. RELIGION, N O T POLITICS, IN SIAM VILLAGE

Not only does the presence of a temple in a village assure more frequent and extensive ties with outside Buddhist communities, it may also

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15

facilitate the mobilization of village manpower for public projects in the absence of any secular political organization. No authority exists within the village to coerce villagers to function as a cooperative unit, yet community-wide support for communal activities is always forthcoming so long as it can be interpreted as participation in religious observance. Projects on a scale larger than the single community of Siam Village automatically fall to the supervision of the neighboring Malay pSnghulu, a local resident who serves as semiofficial representative of the government and whose responsibility it is to pass on directives from the subdistrict officer, the pSnggawa.9 The pSnghulu serves as a kind of headman for a cluster of small villages including Siam Village; so he, in turn, must often communicate orders through a leader of the Thai community. In Siam Village, that leader is never formally chosen; rather, the role is informally occupied by an articulate villager with exceptional experience in dealing with outsiders.10 To muster volunteer support for any impersonal collective undertaking this informal leader strikes the temple gong and tactfully urges egalitarian-minded respondents to dedicate some of their time and labor to a pressing matter concerning the temple. Even the repair of dirt roads and drainage ditches must somehow be presented as temple-related activity (kaan wad) and is often proposed just prior to an important temple fair to emphasize how the temple's prosperity is linked to easy access from the outside. Whatever abstract "community spirit" exists among Siam Villagers is expressed most commonly in communal identification with, and responsibility toward, their temple. We shall explore in a later chapter the temple compound's status as a neutral social space, permitting quite intensive social interaction and cooperation without many of the ordinary contingencies of interpersonal commitments. All services performed in the interests of the temple are, ostensibly at least, performed not out of obligation to particular neighbors or the coresident social aggregate, but rather for the individual accumulation of merit. Yet, in Siam Village, most meritorious behavior is socially prescribed and seems to conveniently include activities which in other societies would be classified as civic responsibilities.11 Whatever their motives might be for large-scale cooperation, Siam Villagers have impressed their Malay neighbors with their apparent village solidarity. When asked how the way of life of Thai villagers differs from that of their Malay neighbors, many Malay respondents remarked that the Thais were more birsatu, or "united," than surrounding Malay communities. Malays are impressed with the social welfare system of Siam Village which somehow manages to feed eighteen people, including monks, nuns, temple boys, and elderly men, residing at the temple on a full-time basis. Unbeknownst to most Malays, the temple receives large donations of rice from outside Chinese benefactors, but

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even so, all of the village's forty-one households contribute rice and condiments daily. Elderly people without families to support them are cared for at the temple, whereas many of their Malay counterparts live alone in hovels, subsisting on tiny monthly allowances from the Muslim religious authorities and alms from sympathetic neighbors. Village size and encapsulation are significant factors here, for cooperation is all the more essential to the survival of a small enclave. Because of Siam Village's small size, it has become customary for every household to participate in all rites of passage, such as weddings, ordinations, and funerals, not to mention annual religious festivals and special temple fairs. Even when a less well-to-do household hosts a ceremony in its own yard, it still invites the whole village to partake of the subsequent feast, although all are aware that the hosts cannot afford to feed everyone. In such instances, most of the invited households will send just one representative to attend the feast (and help allay the cost of the food and drinks). In this way, even the poorest villagers receive ritually equal social recognition regardless of their financial status or kinship connections. However, not every household takes part out of a sense of personal obligation to the hosts. Some households have not had friendly relations between them for years. But, as villagers say, participation is a moral obligation to the religious community: it is the only meritorious alternative. Village-wide adherence to such socioreligious rules serves to muffle the expression of factionalism and protects the dignity of every villager. In contrast to this prescribed social egalitarianism, individual Malay households in neighboring villages are left to marshal their own social resources when celebrating a wedding or circumcision, or organizing a funeral. Such resources are predetermined by family ties, wealth, and influence (see Firth, 1974b). The egalitarianism of Siam Villagers also prevails in the functioning of the village economy, and again it is the temple that furnishes the institutional context, this time for the redistribution of wealth. Unlike neighboring Malay villages, which are typically composed of three economic class divisions (see Nash, 1974b:42-44), Siam Village has only two economic categories represented: a large majority of those villagers who are "comfortable" and a small group of "those in difficulty." These categories will be discussed thoroughly on pages 35 to 36, but for now we should note that Siam Villagers, like their Malay neighbors, do recognize the existence, outside the villages, of a third "wealthy" category. All the same, Thai socioreligious values militate against any substantial accumulation of surplus wealth. Those propertied villagers in a position to accumulate surplus capital are simply not prone to do so. More impoverished villagers do not begrudge them the right to amass a fortune, but static wealth is valued far less than wealth converted into religious merit. And the usual way to perform this conversion is through

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17

the sponsorship of religious festivities and/or the construction of religious monuments. Kelantanese Thais appear to prefer the former method which allows more wealthy Chinese to underwrite the construction of costly religious structures. Much of the money contributed to the temple by comparatively well-to-do villagers is indirectly channeled back into the village economy via free food consumed at the temple fairs, free use of temple facilities, and wages paid to unemployed villagers for their assistance in decorating the compound. Chinese sponsors are usually sought beforehand, but when none are to be found, the better-off villagers readily combine forces to purvey the food and gifts that form the core of the merit-making ceremonies around which temple fairs are planned. Temple property is public property to be used or borrowed with the permission of the abbot. Almost everything presented to the temple in the process of making merit is eventually shared by the villagers. Before leaving Malaysia I decided to present the Siam Villagers with a portable television set in appreciation for their help and hospitality. I was instructed to present it as a gift to the temple, that being the only institutionalized way for them to collectively accept such a gift. In so doing, I would also gain considerably more merit than if I had made the presentation in a secular context. Not infrequently, large wild animals like boar and tapir, tabooed by Islam, are killed by Malay hunters and given to the Thai villagers. Instead of being divided up on the spot, the meat is often salted, cured, and stored away to be eaten by the whole village at some future temple feast. If not presented to the temple, the meat would be divided among those who butchered it and then distributed among relatives and closest friends. Only an extremely large animal could be enjoyed by all under such circumstances. Throughout the ethnographic literature on Thai peasants, one finds discussions of their "loose" social organization, the paucity of corporate groups, the implausibility of concerted action on the part of the whole community (see, for example, Evers, 1969). But in Siam Village and some neighboring Kelantanese Thai enclaves, isolation has created a need for the community to function effectively as a corporate social entity in order to remain prosperous and independent. This need has been partially fulfilled, not through the development of political institutions, but rather by associating community-wide cooperation with devotion to the Buddhist temple and the accumulation of religious merit. THE ORIGINAL SETTLEMENT OF SIAM VILLAGE

No written records have been found to help determine the date of the first settlement at Siam Village. Village elders report that the leader of that tiny band of Thai settlers was the great-grandfather of three brothers now in their forties. Assuming this report to be true, and judging by the average generational age differences, I conclude that the

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village's history goes back about one hundred years. There is no evidence that the founders of Siam Village were part of any large-scale migration from the north; rather, it appears that they comprised one of the occasional bands of adventurous young men and their families who left their parental rice-farming villages in search of locations where they would not only reap the fruits of the fertile Kelantan River Plain soils but could also hunt the wildlife of the bountiful forests. And, in particular, their wanderings were directly related to the abundance of wild boar in those forests. The ancestral villages with which the inhabitants of Siam Village have always identified are all to be found in the modern-day district of Taag Baj in Thailand's southern border-province of Naraathiwaad. Along with the neighboring provinces of Jalaa and Padtaanii, Naraathiwaad was formerly a part of the Malay kingdom of Patani. Despite the fact that Patani was conquered and relinquished several times by various Thai empires and that it was under the suzerainty of Siam during the initial settlement of Siam Village, it has always been a predominantly Malay area both demographically and culturally. Outside of the administrative centers could be found only isolated clusters of Thai rice-farming villages surrounded completely be ecologically similar Malay villages. Little is known of the origins of these Thai enclaves: they may have been settled by the remnants of invading armies from the north, by fugitive serfs or criminals, or perhaps by pioneering farmers in boats surveying the coastline of the peninsula for potential village sites. Whatever the case may have been, the Thai village clusters of Taag Baj developed in relative isolation from the southern Thai cultural areas some one hundred miles to the north. By the late nineteenth century they were speaking a dialect of southern Thai quite unlike any spoken in the north. 12 Not only the language, but practically every facet of the Taag Baj culture had succumbed to influences from the Malay world around them. Village mobility is a well-documented characteristic of the Thai peoples throughout their centuries of migration southward from China. The villages of Taag Baj partcipated in this tradition, undergoing periodic fission and fusion as small contingents hived off to resettle in more desirable circumstances further south in the Malay state of Kelantan, which, like Patani, was also a vassal of Siam. There is no evidence that rice land was scarce in the Taag Baj area, but villages closest to the South China seacoast did occasionally experience serious saltwater inundations during storms. Plenty of potential rice land lay untouched in the Kelantan River plains, where one never worried that paddy land would be rendered useless by unpredictable seas. Yet, clearing a new site involved numerous hardships, not to mention the difficulties in transportation and the disadvantages of being so far removed from the parental village. Some set-

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19

dements like Siam Village were purposely affiliated with neighboring Malay villages instead of seeking a site totally apart from the Malay community. Such a settlement pattern differed markedly from the nearly independent village clusters of Taag Baj, where only a modicum of communication was carried on between ethnic groups. The founders of these more remote Thai villages were understandably very hardy individuals and are remembered today as being the prototypes of the Kelantanese Thai culture heroes known as nagleerj.'3 These romantic figures will be described in considerable detail in chapter 3, but for now they should be recognized as those villagers imbued with an institutionalized wanderlust which they satisfied by becoming hunters and/or itinerant performers. Earlier I alluded to the availability of wild boar in Kelantan. Much of this region of the Malay Peninsula was glutted with the tusked swine for they had few predators, owing to the Muslim-Malay abhorrence for all things porcine. Aside from a few Chinese, no one hunted them for food until the Thais infiltrated the territory. To Malay villagers they were inexorable, nocturnal marauders wreaking endless destruction upon their root and rice crops. Malays could and did kill the wild pigs, but many considered it unwholesome business because there was always the danger of contamination from pig's blood. Having a few Thais nearby to thin out the boar population was a welcome blessing. The handful of Thai hunters who founded Siam Village were also accomplished performers of the southern Thai dance-drama called the manooraa. Not uncommonly, a village or cluster of villages fostered a complete troupe of these players who roamed the countryside performing at different village festivals. Those who migrated to Kelantan eventually learned to deliver their performances in the local Malay language and became very popular among their Malay neighbors. It was reportedly during one such performance about ten miles from Siam Village that the first Siam Villagers met their future neighbors. The Malay ancestors of present-day Melayu Village, the Malay village adjacent to Siam Village, were delighted by the Thai minstrel players and encouraged them to come and hunt in their area. The performers were pleased to accept, insofar as the boar population in the vicinity of their existing settlement had been depleted through intensive hunting by local Chinese and other groups of Thais. Upon finding a wealth of game as well as adequate land for rice cultivation, the Thai hunters agreed to purchase land for a pittance from their Malay hosts and start afresh in these hospitable new surroundings. Not long after the first land was cleared, the women and children, with their belongings, were brought by boat up the tiny tributary of the Kelantan River that leads toward the village. The original compound of five houses or so soon expanded to well over twenty households,

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STUDY AND THE SETTING

joined by friends and relatives from various villages in Taag Baj. However, as was common in those days, only a few of the original settlers stayed on permanently; many returned to Taag Baj or moved on to other sites in Kelantan as conditions changed. They would then be replaced by new immigrants. Not until rice land became scarce in Kelantan did the population of the village tend to stabilize. Today there are no longer any villagers living there who were born in Taag Baj. The preceding account of Siam Village's inception is undoubtedly romanticized to a certain extent, having been passed down orally through three generations; yet it is invaluable as an indication of how today's villagers conceive and value their common cultural heritage in an increasingly complex, pluralistic Malaysian society. As we shall see, the villagers' identification with roaming performers and their activities involving pigs have figured prominently in the evolution of the roles they play visà-vis neighboring ethnic groups. SIAM VILLAGE AND THAILAND

Following Enloe's (1973:24) typology of ethnic minorities, the Thais of Kelantan might be loosely classified as a "national ethnic group," 14 with respect to the modern polity of Malaysia. Although some of their villages surely date back several centuries and even antedate the founding of many Malay settlements in the area, they are not regarded by the state government as a fully indigenous people.15 The villagers of Siam Village perhaps have internalized this alien image in rationalizing their inferior legal status, for they frequently refer to themselves as "outsiders." To a certain degree, their way of life does reflect the "linguistic-religiousmoral culture" of the Thai peoples to the north, but there is no evidence that their communal identity derives significantly from association with Thailand as a polity. To be sure, they are aware of the affinities between the Central Thai traditions and their own, and yet, over the generations, other fundamental attachments have crystallized with non-Thai groups in their immediate surroundings. For now, let us examine the nature of existing relations between Siam Villagers and the Thais across the border in Thailand. With the exception of one young Soqkhlaa man who married a local girl, Siam Villagers have no recognized kinsmen in Thailand outside of Naraathiwaad Province, and almost all of those in Naraathiwaad are scattered within the two districts of Taag Baj and Suqajkoolog (Nikhom commune) not far from the border (see Map 2). Since only a few-hour bus and/or taxi ride separates these kin, communications with them are generally just as frequent as with relatives and friends in other Kelantanese Thai villages. In spite of the international border that runs between Kelantan and Naraathiwaad, friendly relations between Malaysia and Thailand have

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21

facilitated the acquisition of renewable border passes for travel to and from these neighboring communities. Even before the roads and railways connecting the two countries were completed, clandestine border crossings by night at the Golok River were extremely common. Sixty-five years after Siam ceded Kelantan to the British colonial authorities, the border still remains more a political symbol than a social barrier. In particular, many Malays regularly cross the border to visit relatives on either side or to seek employment wherever the wages are higher. In a very real sense, then, social networks for both Thais and Malays in Kelantan are by no means coterminous with existing political boundaries. Parts of southern Naraathiwaad Province constitute an integral part of Siam Villagers' sphere of social relations. Figuratively speaking, the villages of Taag Baj, Siam Village and Nikhom represent three "generations" of Thai migration along the Kelantan-Naraathiwaad frontier. Whereas the parental Taag Baj villages were long the source of Siam Village's immigrants, the filial villages of Nikhom in Naraathiwaad are a new frontier being settled by landless emigrants from Siam Village and other Thai villages in Kelantan. What appears to be a normal continuation of traditional Thai village mobility is, in fact, a very different migratory situation involving unrelated economic pressures and motives. With the severe shortage of land in the Kelantan Delta area and local Malay Reserve land laws which prohibit the sale of agricultural land to non-Malays, villages like Siam Village can no longer support their rapidly growing populations by traditional agricultural means alone. Emigration, once an adventurous quest for better hunting and paddy land, is becoming a matter of economic necessity for some of those who wish to continue to pursue primarily agricultural livelihoods. Though all of the emigrants still consist of young men with their families, it is not necessarily the most restless or independent but rather those with the fewest options who take up plots of land in such distant places as Nikhom or the neighboring Malaysian state of Trengganu. What land is available in these places is usually elevated garden land unsuitable for the cultivation of the Thais' traditional wet rice crop. At Nikhom the government of Thailand has opened up thousands of acres of such land and has actively encouraged Kelantanese Thais and Malays to take up rubber planting there. Each interested homesteader is allotted about seven acres of forested land to be cleared, lumber for building living quarters, and, sometimes, rubber seedlings—all on credit. In time the settler is to reimburse the Thai government with a sum of about U.S. $500 (10,000 baht). No initial deposit need be paid, but settlers must somehow support themselves during the seven years required for the rubber trees to mature. What most distresses these traditional

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23

paddy farmers is the lack of low-lying land for planting their staple crop. Only some dry rice can be cultivated but seldom enough to feed a whole family. Of fourteen Siam Village men drawn into this venture in 1967, only seven have persevered through the hardships, and most of those succeeded because their families were cared for by relatives back in Siam Village while they commuted back and forth to do the clearing and planting on their own. Those who lost heart complain that they could not subsist without paddy land, could not support their families, were discouraged by heavy rains, disliked dealing with pompous Thai officials, and feared local extortionist hoodlums who bullied unsuspecting newcomers. As we shall see in another context (on p. 42), Siam Villagers have also been disinclined to adopt rubber cultivation as their primary occupation, branding it as dissonant with their distinctive self-image. By now most of the Nikhom settlers have fetched their families to their new homes to help tap their maturing rubber stands. Nonetheless, these economic outcasts are, and most likely will continue to be, closely affiliated with their native village. During most important religious festivals at the Siam Village temple at least a few representatives from Nikhom show up to make merit on behalf of their whole community. Occasionally they send a messenger to request holy water from Siam Village's well-known abbot, or simply call on relatives. Those Siam Villagers who can afford to travel and who are free to do so visit Nikhom as they would any other neighboring Thai village. Much the same is true for the villages of Taag Baj where kinsmen—mostly affines and distant cousins—are to be found. There is a long tradition of reciprocal merit-making at each other's temples and an exchange of resident monks and temple boys who then become lifelong links between villages. Now and then a Siam Village youth has been sent to be educated at a Thai government school annexed to a Taag Baj village temple compound. Curiously, no Siam Villagers have ever seriously contemplated moving back to Taag Baj, even though good paddy land has always been plentiful and inexpensive there. Some of the returnees from Nikhom, when asked why they had not considered settling in Taag Baj, remarked that it was a "boring" place. Any new land to be cleared would be on the periphery of a village, too far from the roads, and there was no urban center nearby in which to shop or seek entertainment. Siam Village is less than forty minutes away from Kota Bharu, the bustling capital of Kelantan, and over the years villagers have become accustomed to the modern conveniences the city affords them. Nikhom, too, is somewhat isolated, but close enough to the Thai commercial border town of Sungai Golok so that, if paddy land were available, more Siam Villagers would probably choose to settle there. Siam Villagers have generally enjoyed a higher standard of living than that of their Taag Baj relatives, the economy of the former being much

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more diversified. Despite adverse political circumstances, Siam Villagers have derived considerable economic benefits from regularized transactions with neighboring Chinese and Malays. The evolution of their local cultural and economic system to meet the needs of these neighbors will be the subject of later chapters. We need only emphasize here that Taag Baj Thai villages, in contrast, have never had much to do with surrounding Malay settlements, for both ethnic communities have been composed primarily of self-sufficient rice cultivators. Aside from occasional transactions between Thai villagers and Malay coastal fishermen, there has been practically no regular interethnic commerce in Taag Baj. Nor have the two groups intermarried as a rule. Until the Thai government recently made Thai language education compulsory for Malay youths, the two groups seldom even spoke each other's languages.16 During a trip to two Taag Baj villages, I found no Thai villagers conversant in Malay.17 Because the inhabitants of Siam Village have been bilingual (in Taag Baj Thai and Kelantanese Malay) for generations and have regularly mixed with their Malay and Chinese neighbors, their culture has expectedly continued to absorb numerous assimilative trappings. These often unconscious accretions grow salient in interaction with less "malayized" congeners from Taag Baj who half-jokingly refer to Kelantanese Thais as "Buddhist Malays." Rather than being riled by this banter, Siam Villagers take pride in their bicultural facility. They point out that Malaysia's multiethnic society provides a greater variety of goods and entertainment, more coffee to drink, and cigarettes to smoke." The minor cultural differences that distinguish Siam Villagers from their Naraathiwaad counterparts are hardly as pronounced as those distinguishing the latter from Thai peoples to the north of the former territories of the Malay kingdom of Patani. Thomas (1966:90) observes that Patani was virtually autonomous from Siamese control until the beginning of the twentieth century. In 1901, the Bangkok government sent troops and officials into the Patani area to take over the functions of the Malay rajas and their staffs, and from that time on this region was gradually incorporated into the centralized administrative system of Siam (Fraser, 1960:93). But prior to 1901, Thai cultural influence in the area was limited to a few isolated rural pockets like Taag Baj and small quarters of some towns. The real cultural boundary between Thai and Malay worlds was depicted by Annandale in 1900 (515): In going down the coast from Singgora [Soqkhlaa] to Patani—a distance of about 30 miles—one steps, as it were, out of Siam into Malaya; language and costume change, everything that is Malay becomes conspicuous and predominant. Patani has a Siamese quarter, it is true, but the chief activity of the town is centered in the Malay market near the Malay raja's palace.

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25

The 1960 Thailand Population Census estimates that 78 percent of the population of Naraathiwaad Province is Malay. This figure could be deceptively low for several reasons. Almost the entire non-Malay portion of the population lives in the urban centers and mainly consists of recent immigrants from other parts of southern Thailand, Chinese-Thai merchants, and government officials from central Thailand who have been stationed in Naraathiwaad on only a temporary basis. These groups constitute a separate social category from the indigenous villagers of Taag Baj and are usually to be found in separate locations. The isolated, rural setting of Taag Baj was, until recently, practically inaccessible by land from concentrations of urban Thais to the north. But even before modern roads were constructed by the British in Kelantan, water transportation between Taag Baj and various spots on the Kelantan Delta was relatively simple. Taag Baj Thais then, like their Malay neighbors, have tended to face south while the scattered colonies of urbanized Thais in Naraathiwaad have most certainly faced north in their social orientation. The only concentration of urbanized Thais with which most Siam Villagers are ever likely to have much contact are to be found in the border boomtown of Sungai Golok. Once a peaceful outpost marking the junction of the Malaysian and Thai railway systems, Sungai Golok has become a major commerical center for the distribution of relatively inexpensive agricultural and manufactured products to more prosperous Malaysian markets and a center of prostitution where hundreds of girls from the northernmost provinces of Thailand service countless Malaysian tourists. Around the animated business section of the town has grown a residential community of several thousand inhabitants, mostly speakers of the Thai national language, and for the villagers of Kelantan, these townspeople and their culture are representative of the way of life in modern Thailand. Central Thais, referred to as "Bangkok people," are imagined by the villagers to be predominantly members of the educated middle-class with characteristics much like those of government officials' families stationed in Sungai Golok. As humble farmers, the Siam Villagers are extremely deferential in their interaction with Central Thais. Contact between them is held to a minimum during impersonal encounters while shopping or attending some large festival in the town. Many villagers have described their embarrassment in not being able to speak proper central Thai, not being acquainted with the cuisine of the Bangkok type of Thais, or not being familiar with current events in Thailand. In Sungai Golok they feel much more like foreigners than in Kelantan. Ironically, they interact more freely with the local Malay community of Sungai Golok, for they speak the latter's language and recognize their foods." Albeit the town is less than two hours away from Siam Village by bus or taxi, the Thai villagers do not make the journey any more often than most of their Malay neighbors unless some par-

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STUDY AND THE SETTING

ticular religious paraphernalia are needed for a temple ceremony.20 One village woman has some friends living in Sungai Golok and now and then visits them, but I know of no Siam Villagers who have kinsmen there. Only one village youth has sought employment there, but he returned after several months of work as a mechanic complaining that the wages were much lower than in Malaysia. Siam Village's identification with the Thai polity via neighboring Sungai Golok is evidently improbable on account of the disparate social and cultural backgrounds of the two communities. Most of the villagers' knowledge about the Thai culture to the north is gleaned from long hours of listening to the radio melodramas broadcast from the provincial capital of Naraathiwaad. Some folksy productions are presented in the southern Thai dialects of Soqkhlaa and other regions, but, oddly enough, villagers comment that Bangkok Thai is much easier to follow, perhaps because it contains fewer regional colloquialisms.21 A few literate villagers, including long-term monks, peruse an occasional Thai newspaper or listen to Thai newscasts with some curiosity; however, only collections of love stories and adventure serials command a steady readership. At Buddhist temple fairs held throughout Kelantan important exposure to the culture of peninsular Thailand is provided in the dialogue of visiting shadow-puppet and likee dance-drama troupes from Thailand. Films produced in Bangkok are also shown from time to time at these fairs and sometimes at cinemas in Kota Bharu as well. In addition, itinerant peddlers from as far away as Nakhssnsiithammaraad appear at times in the most remote villages selling their nostrums, amulets, and Buddha images, and passing on tidbits of gossipy news. Finally, the village temple is visited every year by several busloads of Bangkok tourists en route to and from Singapore. Many come purely out of curiosity, visiting two or three prominent Kelantanese temples on their tour. Just prior to Buddhist Lent, however, villagers can usually count on groups of tourists donating large beeswax candles to be used in ceremonies marking the onset of the Lenten period. As a rule, these travelers remain within the temple compound, paying their respects to the abbot, and seldom stray into the residential part of the village. Significantly, the only Siam Villagers to ever undertake a bus tour of Thailand accompanied a group of monks who were primarily concerned with seeing the important temples of the central and northern provinces. The Buddhist monkhood is without doubt the Siam Villager's principal vehicle of identification with the Thai nation. The Siam Village temple falls outside the jurisdiction of the Thai Department of Religious Affairs, but local monks are encouraged to pursue courses of religious study in Thailand's temples. They are offered a monthly stipend of 200 baht (U.S. $10) and free transportation for as much time as they require

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27

to prepare for their examinations for advancement in the religious hierarchy. Although several monks from other, larger Kelantanese temples have progressed into the parian, or Pali scriptural studies, only one Siam Village monk has advanced as far as the third level of the Thai-language nagtham examinations for general religious knowledge. He, in fact, is an exceptional case—a bright individual who spent most of his twenty-twoyear monastic career in Naraathiwaad temples. The remaining career monks at the Siam Village temple have chosen not to further their education in this formal manner; nevertheless, they have studied Old Cambodian (kh^-3m) script with the abbot and do pass a reasonable amount of time reading the scriptures at their leisure. No pressure is exerted upon Kelantanese monks to achieve any particular level of literacy, though some larger temples conduct programs of preparatory study for the Religions Department's lower-level examinations. In a similar fashion, the Siam Village temple's financial affairs do not come under the scrutiny of the Religions Department, as is at least nominally the case throughout Thailand. (All expenditures are, however, approved by the abbot.) This lack of accountability in no way interferes with the right of the temple community to request funds from Bangkok. It does so through the Thai consulate at Kota Bharu, and surprisingly, receives rather liberal subsidies after a usual waiting period of two or three years. In recent years the Religions Department has allotted more than U.S. $4,000 for the construction of temple buildings at Siam Village. Besides supervising the use of these funds, the Thai consul is supposed to facilitate emigration of local Thais back to Thailand and generally to function as a potential link with all Thai authorities. Past consuls have made token merit at the local temples but tend to remain aloof, corroborating villagers' stereotypes of Thai bureaucrats as condescending elitists. At major temple fairs the consul sits at the table of honor drinking imported cognac with local VIP's, with his Mercedes parked nearby, while villagers respectfully look on or go about their business. The monkhood in Kelantan, as in Thailand has traditionally been the sole source of education for Thai villagers. Because of their literacy in Thai, former monks have played an important role in the leadership of most villages. And those who have served in Thailand are especially proficient in the Thai national language. It is the geographically mobile monks who keep abreast of the latest political and cultural developments in Thailand and pass on this information to village laymen. It is the monks who now and then acquire Thai newspapers and monitor Thai news broadcasts. But because of their ecclesiastical role, they are usually avoided by Malay neighbors. It can be generalized that they are the most important channel through which outside Thai influences impinge upon

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STUDY AND THE SETTING

the lives of the villagers, whereas the nagleey adventurer types assume the role of innovators in the village's adaptation to its Malay environment. Despite the relative sophistication of the career monks, there is little evidence that they influence lay villagers politically. Most village elders who were interviewed displayed about equal indifference both to Thai and to Malaysian politics. Villagers described themselves as phraaj or "subjects" of the Malaysian king but also identified with the Thai king as the embodiment of Thai ethnic dignity. Little was known of the de facto political leaders of either nation except rough approximations of their names and titles. Almost every house in the village displays portraits of the Malay king and queen as a gesture of patriotism, but right alongside these can usually be found pictures of the Thai royal family. The same pictures of the Thai king and queen, which symbolize national pride in Thailand, reflect a tenuous ethnic identification among Siam Villagers. In many cases, pictures of Thai royalty were taken from popular illustrated magazines or brought back as souvenirs from Thailand by monks. I conclude this section on a rather ironic note. Siam Villagers are sometimes placed in a position where they feel they must dissociate themselves from certain goings-on across the border. Puritanical Malay neighbors form stereotypes of all Thais as promiscuous and immoral, based on accounts of Sungai Golok's flesh trade. Then too, bevies of Thai dance-hall girls (or ram wot; dancers) are commonly hired from across the border to come and entertain both Malay and Thai men at social functions where tickets for partners are sold to raise money for some worthy cause. Some Malay youths acquire an impressive repertoire of obscene sexual expressions in central Thai which they use freely among unsuspecting relatives. Though Thai age-mates are cognizant of these usages, they themselves almost never utter them." Siam Villagers are wont to remark that they do not share with Bangkok Thai men the habit of using foul language, and their women do not become dancers.

Partii Economic Survival and Its Interethnic Solution

CHAPTER 2

Decline of Siam Village's Traditional Agricultural Economy

THE LAND SQUEEZE

The half century that followed the founding of Siam Village was reportedly an era of peace and prosperity for its relatively few inhabitants. Rice land was plentiful and could be easily extended by reclaiming patches of surrounding swampland whenever the need for expansion arose. Although new settlers were obliged to purchase previously cleared paddy land for a modest sum, the virgin forests and swamps were practically free for the taking by anyone with enough energy to transform them into agricultural lands. In theory, all land was the property of the Raja of Kelantan,1 whose court depended on revenues collected in the form of produce taxes from his tenant-subjects. But in practice, local headmen collected and retained arbitrary fees in return for permission to occupy land, and only a small fraction of the actual individual holdings were ever surveyed or registered until well after World War II. The inaccessibility of many settlements like Siam Village, which had to be approached on foot, surely discouraged regular visits from administrators, be they Malay, Thai, or British. In 1908, W. A. Graham (1908:57-58) made the remarkable observation that prior to 1904, there had apparently never been any wheeled vehicles (not even bullock carts) operating in Kelantan except for the carriages of the raja. Moreover, his description of the existing roads in 1908 indicates that no road had been constructed within seven miles of Siam Village. The poor communications between the Siam Village area and the administrative capital at Kota Bharu proved to be a double blessing during the early decades of the village's history. Few restrictions were enforced regarding the amount of land Thais could occupy, and they were isolated enough to be spared from initial population pressures building up in Malay communities closer to the

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capital. Nor is there any evidence that early Siam Villagers were severely exploited by local district chiefs or headmen imposing levies on their produce and services.2 By the 1920s, however, the Kelantanese coastal plain showed signs of reaching its carrying capacity as a subsistence paddy-farming region. After urban Kuala Lumpur, it was the second most densely populated area in British Malaya (Kessler 1974:289-290), and the cultivation of its wet-rice staple crop could no longer keep pace with the growth of its population. 3 Not only had low-lying paddy land become harder to find, but land formerly used for rice cultivation was now being planted with rubber. Nonetheless, the overwhelming majority of Kelantanese Malay peasants continued to cultivate their single subsistence rice crop wherever new land could be found. In time, rapidly growing Malay communities like Melayu Village swallowed up the remaining forest land around Siam Village. To aggravate matters, a Malay Reservations Act was enacted in Kelantan in 1930 to protect the landholdings of impoverished Malay rice farmers against further expropriation by "alien" creditors and speculators. Although this law ostensibly aimed at curtailing the activities of Chinese and Indian moneylenders, who had succeeded in buying up large areas of agricultural land in other parts of Malaysia, it restricted the acquisition of Kelantanese Malay land by any "outsiders," including all non-Kelantanese Malays and non-Malay Kelantanese.4 At the same time, non-Malay groups like the Thais were given the opportunity to register those lands which they already occupied so as to release them from controls imposed by the new law. But from then on, Siam Villagers could no longer legally purchase land belonging to, or earmarked for, 3 their rural Malay neighbors—not even land that they had originally claimed and then been forced to sell to local Malays. The latter property, once in the possession of Kelantanese Malays, was to remain Malay Reserve land forever after. During the ensuing decades, in times of crop failure or family crises, Thais were compelled to sell portions of their original landholdings to Malays, especially when no other Thais possessed the necessary capital to prevent such irreversible transactions. Siam Villagers sometimes chose to sell out to absentee Chinese landlords as a last resort rather than to totally relinquish their right to reacquire the land at some later date. Wealthy Chinese, who were eager to invest in such village land, would frequently permit landless Thais to settle on certain plots and even cultivate vegetables there in return for minor caretaking services.6 In addition, local Thais were encouraged to sharecrop Chinese-owned paddy land. But whenever possible, land was sold to a fellow Thai villager, often for a much smaller sum than what could be obtained from outsiders.7 In such instances, the seller might or might not buy back his property, but at least village resources were not further eroded.'

DECLINE OF TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

33

Despite the Siam Villagers' efforts to forestall the shrinkage of their village domain, other demographic factors, such as growing population and land fragmentation through inheritance, created serious economic pressures from within. By the early 1950s it was evident that not all villagers could continue to pursue their traditional agricultural occupation unless some were willing to seek their livelihood elsewhere. Several families accordingly joined the large exodus of Kelantanese Malays who left to find and develop new land in the Besut district of northern Trengganu.' At first they settled as squatters on Malay Reserve land there. These early emigrants were fortunate enough to establish themselves as rubber cultivators before the Trengganu authorities were fully aware of their illegal presence. Luckily they were only fined and allowed to stay on, but later arrivals were flatly refused permission to settle in Besut and forced to return home. It is noteworthy that most of the land available in Trengganu at that time was not suitable for wet-rice cultivation. Those who stayed and prospered, failed to satisfy their subsistence needs with the little dry rice they were able to plant. Not uncommonly, they received shipments of rice from relatives in Kelantan, especially until they were able to purchase their own with the profits from their rubber holdings. Not all Kelantanese Thai villages experienced the same land pressures simultaneously. Those villages situated along the coast, for instance, had much greater difficulty meeting their subsistence needs, for the sandy littoral soils were far from ideal for growing the existing strains of rice. Many of these villagers formerly eked out a living making clay roof tiles, raising pigs for the Chinese, weaving straw mats, or preparing nipa-palm cigarette wrappers for sale at local markets. Not until the rather recent introduction of new rice varieties adapted to sandy soils did these villages begin to feel the land squeeze. The Siam Village area, with its less porous alluvial soils, was a much earlier target for heavy settlement by Malay rice farmers. And albeit Siam Villagers' forefathers were more economically dependent on their paddy production, they seem to have overlooked the necessity for claiming more land than was needed at the moment. Before they could claim sufficient paddy land for their descendants, it was already too late. Thus the expansion of Siam Village was checked prematurely, due to what present-day villagers feel was the improvidence of its early inhabitants; as a consequence, the trend toward landlessness in Siam Village is considerably more advanced than in some other Kelantanese Thai communities. A STATISTICAL DESCRIPTION OF PRESENT LAND SHORTAGES

At this point it would be helpful to introduce some statistical data indicating the distribution of land in Siam Village and neighboring Melayu Village as of 1974. It will quickly become apparent that land shortage is almost as grave a problem among Malays as among Thais. Yet we shall

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see that the two groups have pursued quite different courses in their efforts to adjust to increasing land pressures. All figures for land ownership have been calculated for households rather than individual persons because, as a rule, members of each household work and eat together as a unit. 10 Upon divorce, all possessions including landholdings are redivided between former spouses; but while they are together, the produce from their lands is generally shared in common. Among Malay villagers, especially, extended families living under one roof occasionally practice separate budgeting whereby each budgetary unit (usually a separate couple or older relative) contributes its own rice. Otherwise, such goods as kerosene, betel, tobacco, coffee, firewood, and condiments for the rice are pooled (see also Rosemary Firth, 1966:17). Such joint households have simply been counted as single, large household units and the land of all household members has been combined as one sum. At the time of my original census, Siam Village was composed of 41 households containing 196 people along with an additional 17 persons living within the temple compound." These population figures indicate those villagers who reside permanently at the village but do not account for the families of village women who have married out and who return with their children to spend a large part of each year living in the houses of kinsmen. Most of these women have married either Chinese or Indian men and have left to set up nuclear households near the places of their husbands' employment. Their new surroundings usually include large concentrations of outgroup in-laws and friends in semiurban communities but almost total isolation from other rural Thais. Understandably, these women return as often as possible to their native village, where they renew intimate ties with coethnics. Their children experience the Thai way of life in the process and form lasting social ties with their rural kinsmen and friends. Melayu Village is three times as large as Siam Village and contains 125 households with 564 inhabitants. All Melayu Villagers are members of one household or another and comparatively few villagers who have moved away return for visits of more than a couple weeks in duration. Since Melayu Villagers marry Malays exclusively,12 they have a better chance of adjusting to their new surroundings when they take up residence in another Malay community; there is consequently less need for such frequent homecomings. Even without counting the semiresident families of Siam Village, we find that the average household size for that village is larger than that for Melayu Village. There are an average of 4.78 people per Thai household, compared with 4.51 people per Malay household. Of Siam Village's 41 households, 18 (or 43.9 percent) include combinations of coresidents other than a single nuclear family. This high percentage results from the

DECLINE OF TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

35

Thai custom of caring for elderly kinsmen within the household, and from the dependence of several young wives and their children on relatives while their husbands accept employment or establish homesteads in faraway locations. There is a much lower percentage of households which lack married couples altogether, unlike in Melayu Village, where a widowed or divorced person, his or her children, and a kinsman or two frequently constitute a household. Fifty-two of Melayu Village's 125 households (or 41.6 percent) consist of aggregates other than simple nuclear families. There are a few cases of polygynous arrangements—a phenomenon unheard of in Siam Village yet readily permitted by Thai mores. But the majority of the 52 "extended-family" households include at least one generation of adults deprived of spouses through death or divorce. Nevertheless, single elderly kinsmen among the Malays are more likely to live apart from married couples with families, unless the former own the house and land and permit the younger nuclear families to stay with them. A much smaller number of unaccompanied wives are to be found among the Malays, for their husbands now take fewer jobs in distant places,13 and Melayu Village is not currently experiencing much emigration. In discussing the land ownership of Thai and Malay households, I will employ economic categories corresponding to those commonly used by Siam and Melayu villagers. Villagers agree, in general, that two acres of local paddy land will yield enough grain in a single crop to feed the average household for one year.14 This rather rough approximation is applicable only when the year's harvest has been a satisfactory one, and it includes allowances made for the usual Thai contributions of rice to the temple or the payment of annual religious tithes by Muslim Malays.15 This quantity of rice will keep a family from starving but will not suffice to keep it out of debt in Malaysia's monetary economy. To be really economically self-sufficient, a family should own and cultivate at least five acres of paddy and/or rubber land. With the produce from five acres, adequate food and clothing can be purchased, the children's education can be funded, and the adult household members need not seek additional income as agricultural laborers (see also Nash, 1974b:43). Finally, with holdings of twelve acres or more, a family can live comfortably without working their land themselves. These well-to-do households usually allow others to sharecrop their land or they may rent out portions of it.16 Landowners pay for all seed grain and fertilizers and are entitled to one-half of the sharecroppers' harvested grain. Only those most interested in accumulating funds for the pilgrimage to Mecca and a handful of rural capitalist entrepreneurs will still cultivate some of their land when they control such large holdings. With these figures in mind, let us compare the land holdings of the

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Melayu and Siam Village households. In Siam Village thirty-two households (or 78 percent) own less than two acres of paddy land. Somehow, most of these thirty-two households must obtain additional rice just in order to feed themselves. There are various ways for them to go about accomplishing this: they may sharecrop or rent the land of others, hire themselves out as part-time agricultural laborers, or seek full- or parttime employment outside the village. An even greater number of Thai households own less than the minimum amount of land to remain economically self-sufficient: thirty-Five households (or 85.4 percent) own less than five acres of land. Only six households (or 14.6 percent) have more than five acres of land in their members' names, and no Siam Villagers own as much as twelve acres. Thus, more than five out of six Siam Village households have had to depend on other sources of income than their own paddy lands, just to make ends meet. The land situation among Melayu Villagers is not drastically different. Sixty-nine Malay households (or 55.2 percent) own less than two acres of paddy land, while ninety-eight households (or 78.4 percent) lack the five acres of land that would render them hypothetically self-sufficient. Eighteen Malay households (14.4 percent) own between five and eleven acres of land; and, significantly, nine households (7.2 percent) possess at least twelve acres, holdings which distinguish them as members of the wealthy class. The ethnographic literature on the Malay peasantry contains many references to the growing concentration of wealth in the hands of urbanized Malay absentee landlords and a few enterprising villagers (see, for example, Swift, 1967). It was impossible for me to determine the extent to which Melayu Village land was controlled by outside Malay capitalists, but some of the village's wealthy "leisure class" were studied in some detail and will figure prominently in later discussions of interethnic relations (see, for example, p. 97). Here I only wish to emphasize that in the recent past nearly four out of five Melayu Villagers have had to supplement the income from their own paddy land merely to stay out of debt. Thus far I have purposely ignored the introduction of double-cropping techniques made feasible after the recent completion of the local branch of the Kemubu Irrigation Project in the area of my study. The newly available water has revolutionized the Melayu Village economy in the last three years, permitting families to subsist on far less land than before. Yet the economic imbalance continues, for the landless derive fewer benefits from irrigation. Shortly, in considering strategies of adaptation, I will examine the contrasting Thai and Malay responses to the introduction of the new irrigation facilities. But first, I wish to present a final set of statistics which will help to illustrate how land-hungry Thai and Malay villagers have turned to sharecropping and the sale of their labor for economic survival.

DECLINE OF TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

37

As might be expected, a greater percentage of Thais than Malays must sharecrop or rent other people's land. Eighteen Thai households (43.9 percent) sharecrop or rent land while two Thai households (4.9 percent) use relatives' land free of charge. In contrast, only forty-five Malay households (36 percent) sharecrop or rent land. These figures seem surprisingly low considering the numbers of households with insufficient land on which to subsist under single-cropping conditions." In fact, the Melayu Village data reflect the overwhelming trend toward doublecropping, which has prevailed there since 1972. Over a third of the formerly land-deficient Malay households have achieved economic selfsufficiency owing to the introduction of double-cropping. We cannot so easily explain away the one-third of the land-deficient Thai households who choose not to sharecrop or rent other people's land. At the time the data were collected, only one Thai household had experimented with a modified double-cropping schedule! We shall see that over the last few decades the Thais have had to turn away from the exclusive cultivation of their staple rice crop, even though they still prefer to identify themselves as paddy farmers. Unlike their Malay neighbors, Thais have chosen not to cultivate rice as a cash crop despite the recent threefold increase in rice prices. Instead, they adhere to a tradition of specialized tobacco cultivation, which they acquired and perfected while their land holdings were shrinking. Continuation of this tradition precludes full-scale doublecropping (see pp. 39-41). In addition, many young Thais now opt for employment in Chinese firms rather than "wasting their time" sharecropping others' land." These men bring badly needed cash into Siam Village while their wives and relatives grow what rice they can to alleviate the shortage. They also make arrangements to share the surplus rice of other households. The expressed desire of the Siam Villagers is to remain self-sufficient in rice as a whole village without giving up their secondary occupation of growing tobacco. They manage to approach this goal through the careful distribution of surplus rice within the village. No one purposely grows more rice than he thinks his family and friends will require. Those with more paddy land than they need to supply their basic requirements arrange to have land-deficient fellow villagers sharecrop for them or offer surplus rice as payment for their neighbors' labor during transplantings and harvests." Half of the paddy land sharecropped or rented by Thais is land owned by a handful of well-to-do Siam Villagers; only eight Thais use nearby Malay land, and one sharecrops for a Chinese. Very seldom do Malays sharecrop or rent Thai paddy land, which is fully utilized by Thais during the regular growing season. Looking at the employment patterns for agricultural labor, we find a much more pronounced economic interdependence between Malay and Thai communities. Members of sixteen Siam Village households (or 39 percent) earned extra income harvesting and/or transplanting for others

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DECLINE OF TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

during 1973. In fourteen Thai households (34.1 percent) members were employed by Malays while in only six households (14.6 percent) did members work for Thais. All Thai employers except one paid them wages in the form of rice whereas more than half of the Malay employers preferred to pay cash. At one time or another during the same period, fifteen Thai households (36.4 percent) hired outsiders to supplement their own labor force, especially in times of emergency.20 Remarkably, thirteen of these households (31.7 percent) hired Malay workers whom they paid with cash, while only five (12.2 percent) engaged Thai neighbors, mostly for payment in rice. Given that only thirty-four Malay households (27.2 percent) admitted to having contributed to the hired labor force, it is noteworthy that so many accepted employment with Thai neighbors. The tendency seems to be for Malay households to employ fewer outside helpers (only forty-one households, or 32.8 percent, did so), partly because they have more manpower with fewer agricultural tasks, but also, as we shall discover, because they enjoy access to fewer sources of cash income than do the Thais. A majority of the households in both villages also participate in intravillage reciprocal harvesting group networks. A typical household agrees to exchange personnel with four or five other households during the most demanding phases of the agricultural cycle. Where possible, attempts are made to stagger their crop plantings so that large-scale cooperative harvesting parties can be more evenly spaced throughout the harvest season. These less formal reciprocal arrangements do not extend across village boundaries—further evidence of the impersonal nature of intervillage relations. Thais point out that such interethnic obligations would also be awkward since Malays could not freely partake of the traditional feasts prepared by hosting Thai households to celebrate the completion of a day's cooperative labor. Regarding the exchange of agricultural laborers between the Thai and Malay villages, it is important to note the kinds of payment involved. By their very nature, such hiring arrangements are more formal and less personal than participation in cooperative harvesting groups. They usually entail some preliminary haggling over the wages to be paid, rather than a simple exchange of labor, or the equal division of produce as in sharecropping. Members of the same village are much less comfortable concluding impersonal business transactions among themselves than are individuals from separate communities. Villagers are very conscious of the complications which arise when personal obligations intrude in otherwise straightforward employment arrangements. Workers feel obliged to express their solidarity with ingroup employers by doing more than would be required of them in less familiar surroundings. Thus a kam,21 or "handful," of reaped rice stalks is commonly as much as 20 percent

DECLINE OF TRADITIONAL AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY

39

larger when tied by a Thai for another Siam Villager. Ingroup employers tend to recognize such subtle differences and offer to pay more for every 100 kam harvested by Thais than for the same number prepared by Malay helpers. But the standardization of wages and work performance, so easily achieved when workers and employers are from different groups, drags on as an unresolved issue among fellow villagers. Although this indefiniteness provides opportunities for the reaffirmation of group solidarity, many villagers prefer not to become entangled in such diplomatic rituals too often. It is mostly when the payment is to be made in rice that Siam Villagers prefer hiring or serving other Thais. In such cases, they may agree on a certain percentage of the harvest as the current wage rate. Where the payment is to be made in fixed sums of money (or even the equivalent of those sums in rice), we find a striking preference for intervillage employment arrangements. This is but one instance among many in the literature on ethnicity, where the stress inherent in business transactions is reduced by encouraging more interaction between members of socially distant ethnic groups. 22 AGRICULTURAL RESPONSE TO INCREASING LAND SHORTAGE AND THE NEED FOR CASH

Siam Villagers report that their ancestors, like those of their Malay neighbors, almost never combined their subsistence cultivation of rice with any other major agricultural enterprises.23 To this day, most Taag Baj Thai villagers are content growing just one large rice crop each year. When land was still plentiful, Siam Villagers had not yet been swept into the money economy. Most of the basic necessities of life were still produced within the village: people wove their own cloth, caught their own fish, sawed their own lumber, and milled their own rice. Travel was much more restricted; no one went to Kota Bharu for evenings of entertainment; and it cost nothing to send children to nonexistent government schools. Only a modicum of cash was required to purchase steel blades for farming implements or to pay taxes, and even these transactions could be carried out without converting surplus rice into money. Many a household would supplement its diet by growing a few vegetables and fruits, but edible wild plants were also easily obtained from the nearby forests. Under the British colonial rule new products and services were eventually made available to the Kelantanese peasants which promised to bring more leisure and glamor to their rustic lifestyle. Well before the first population pressures on the land were felt, villagers were already confronted with the problem of how to earn additional cash to pay for attractive imported goods like textiles, kitchen utensils, and bedding. 24 Melayu Villagers seem to have responded initially by intensifying their

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production of rice. The Siam Villagers, however, apparently under the influence and instruction of Chinese friends,25 took up mixed farming. In particular, they began to specialize in the cultivation of a strongtasting variety of tobacco which was becoming extremely popular among the rural inhabitants of Kelantan. This tobacco is shredded and cured by its cultivators and is often sold by the catty." The consumer rolls his own cigarettes in cuttings from nipa palm strips, which are specially prepared and sold in the markets by people from other villages. These rokok daun, or "leaf cigarettes," have become a standard item in practically every rural Kelantanese budget. Not only are they less expensive than commercial cigarettes, but their use, I shall argue, has acquired important social connotations. As the land shortage grew in severity, Siam Villagers relied more and more heavily on tobacco cultivation as a supplemental source of income. Greater numbers of households, having acquired the seeds and necessary skills from their ingroup neighbors, undertook to reap for themselves some of the impressive profits to be made in so favorable a market. This new cash crop had its advantages and its disadvantages. On the one hand, it required relatively little space, could be grown on elevated garden or unflooded paddy land during the dry season, demanded less hard labor per unit of profit than did rice, and could be easily sold to nearby Malay neighbors. But, on the other hand, its cultivation entailed a much greater factor of risk. The soils in the Siam-Melayu Village area are very heterogeneous in nature. Within a single acre are sometimes found scattered patches of three or four different soil types varying in porosity and chemical composition. Most of the land available for tobacco planting in this region consists of heavier soils rich in nitrogen. Such soil varieties are much more desirable for rice than tobacco cultivation. The only varieties of tobacco which seem to thrive in this edaphic environment are the darker, heavier, stronger tasting ones which are most often used in the manufacture of cigars or cheroots.27 These varieties have never been acceptable for use in the manufacture of commercial cigarettes, which require bright, mild cigarette tobaccos grown in light sandy loam. Moreover, where the nitrogen content of the soil is too high, the leaves of the tobacco plants grow too thick and heavy for cigarette production. Ideally, tobacco should be planted on land that has recently been reclaimed from secondary growth or virgin forest. Where this is not possible, as, for instance, on fallow paddy land during the dry season, generous doses of fertilizer are absolutely essential for satisfactory yields. Artificial fertilizers rich in potash are recommended, but villagers have seldom been able to afford much more than cattle manure, burnt earth, and coconut fronds. As a rule, villagers choose to transplant seedlings to ridged garden plots close to their houses and wells. The young plants need a

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great deal of attention: on dry days they must be regularly watered, during storms they must be sheltered, and the soil around them has to be kept loose and free of weeds. 2 ' Although the work involved in tobacco cultivation is less backbreaking than transplanting and harvesting rice, it is every bit as timeconsuming." Because Siam Villagers have always had to dry, cure, and shred their own leaves, they are seldom able to cultivate more than a thousand plants per household and still produce a rice crop. I have seen villagers working late into the night processing the shredded leaves for sale the next day. In areas where the soil is suitable for commercial cigarette varieties, cultivators can comfortably plant five times as many plants, for their labors will be over when they deliver the whole, uncured leaves to the commercial curing barns. In addition, Siam Villagers have never established adequate control over tobacco pests and diseases. Their humility and timidity preclude individual consultations with government agricultural experts, even though such services have long been offered free of charge. Consequently, two or three households every year passively watch their entire crops succumb to some unknown blight, without any particular fuss. Even those plants which escape major damage from parasites never attain the height or breadth of plants properly fertilized under the supervision of Chinese, British, or government tobacco companies. While cultivators in other Kelantanese villages receive from M$300 to M$500 for the uncured, unshredded leaves per thousand commercial plants,30 Siam Villagers generally gross from M$400 to M$700 per thousand plants. But the latter must invest more than twice as much time and energy in preparing their finished product of cured, shredded tobacco. They are also restricted to much smaller quantities of plants and must take greater risks operating as independent growers without access to commercial or scientific know-how. In spite of the many drawbacks just mentioned, thirty-four out of Siam Village's forty-one households planted an average of almost 600 tobacco plants per household in 1974. Very little of this crop was consumed by the Thais themselves. Villagers estimate that 100 plants will supply one couple of chain smokers for a year. The money received from the sale of this tobacco constituted the villagers' only major agricultural source of cash income except rubber. Of the three villagers who derive substantial earnings from rubber cultivation, two have their rubber stands in Trengganu (and have moved back to Siam Village); the third owns only three acres. Six other villagers own from one-half to two acres of rubber trees which they half-heartedly tap. It was little more than a generation ago that rubber trees were first planted on Siam-Melayu Village lands. Long before that time, rubber was being grown on a large scale in the hilly interior areas of Kelantan,

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especially on British-owned estate land. Yet, it was not until rice land began getting scarce that villagers—especially Malay villagers—turned to rubber cultivation for additional income. For the most part, it was the more well-to-do villagers who became the smallholder rubber producers.31 Both Malay and Thai villagers traditionally satisfy their rice requirements before planting any secondary crops. Where possible, only wet rice is planted, on low-lying land, which can be easily flooded during the wet season. Siam and Melayu village homestead sites, like most of the others in Kelantan, are located on elevated ridges that were once covered with trees and overlooked surrounding swamplands (see Dobby, 1951: 240). The development of the villages' expansive paddy lands entailed a gradual reclamation of adjacent swampland to paddy with the use of man-made levees. But the higher, forested land along the ridges where homes are built could only be reclaimed for gardens or plots of dry rice." Villagers emphasize that though their ancestors planted quite a lot of dry rice, they, themselves, are disinclined to do so, except in emergencies when their wet-rice crops fail. Thus, before the advent of rubber cultivation, considerable stretches of tree-covered ridge land around the villages lay unreclaimed and unclaimed. Only occasional clearings were made for vegetable gardens, rice seedbeds, and tobacco fields. Rubber smallholdings sprang up in much greater numbers among Melayu Villagers than among their Thai neighbors." There were several obvious reasons for this disparity. By then, many Thais were busy growing their tobacco whereas hardly any Melayu Villagers had shown any interest in mixed farming. We shall see shortly why local Malays failed to take up tobacco planting. Siam Villagers had cultivated likewise a tradition of more intensive vegetable gardening, once again under the influence of a few coresident Chinese settlers. But the principal reason for the almost total domination of rubber cultivation by Melayu Villagers was, no doubt, the prohibition in 1930 of further acquisition of Malay Reserve land by Thais. In subsequent decades, there has arisen among Siam Villagers the feeling that the rubber industry is somehow the economic domain of their Malay neighbors, just as noncommercial tobacco growing is almost exclusively a local Thai activity. While more than half of the men of Melayu Village have traditionally supplemented their family incomes by becoming rubber tappers every year during the off-season, only three Siam Village men have sought employment as tappers, and all with Chinese firms.54 As a matter of fact, much of the rubber land found in Siam Village today was once owned by a single Thai-Chinese villager who bequeathed it to members of four different present-day households. The remaining Thai families who tap their own rubber trees reportedly acquired their skills through association with some Chinese and Malay

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43

friends working on a formerly British rubber estate about fifteen miles away. Although Thais sell their crude rubber (in corrugated sheets) to Malay middlemen, they apparently never discuss production methods with Melayu Village neighbors, sensing that they might be imposing upon the Malays to divulge certain ethnic trade secrets. Nor has either group ever hired members of the other as tappers. In a similar fashion, Melayu Villagers have never approached Siam Villagers regarding the correct procedures for cultivating their noncommercial tobacco varieties. From time to time, a local Malay experiments with a few tobacco seeds which he may have obtained from another Malay village, but the results are nearly never satisfactory. The Malays conclude that their soil is unsuitable while the Thais quietly pass by recognizing the deficiencies to be in the cultivating techniques.35 There exists a tacit understanding between the two groups that seeds and information about tobacco-growing will not pass across the local intervillage boundary. Interestingly, an agricultural survey of Melayu Village in 1974 turned up only five households whose members were cultivating tobacco. One man had succeeded in growing forty rather small plants of the noncommercial variety for his family's own consumption. The other four households owned land in an area where the soil was light and sandy. They had all contracted to grow several thousand plants for a government-owned tobacco company a few miles away.36 The dichotomous nature of local farming will be taken up again in chapters 7 and 8, during discussions of ethnic boundary maintenance. Here it need only be recognized that this dichotomization is part of an overall interactional pattern peculiar to one localized ethnic boundary. There are many other Malay villages in Kelantan where noncommercial tobacco is successfully grown, just as there is at least one Thai village near the Thailand border which specializes almost entirely in rubber cultivation. Local villagers are vaguely aware of these regional differences and are much less inhibited about seeking technical information from distant outgroup cultivators. But subtle social pressures exist which promote the continuation of these dichotomous local agricultural patterns. In the following section, I shall discuss how these diverging economic traditions have served to stabilize intervillage social relations which might otherwise have deteriorated in an all-out competition for limited resources. We shall see that what Bateson (1935) has called "symmetrical schismogenesis" between social groups has been averted here through the evolution of mutually dependent village economies. THAI-MALAY AGRICULTURAL COMPLEMENTARITY

It can be argued that Melayu Villagers never seriously took up noncommercial tobacco cultivation because tobacco could be obtained easily and inexpensively from Thai neighbors. Then, too, the Malays did not have

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access to Chinese cultivators' professional secrets as did the Thais. But those conditions in themselves do not explain the almost total compartmentalization of local tobacco and rubber cultivation along ethnic lines. Possibly the Thais have an easier time finding a market for their tobacco if fewer neighboring villages specialize in its production; but, in fact, most of Siam Village's tobacco is delivered to Malay middlemen, who take it and sell it at markets as far as six miles away. There is never a glut on the market, so prices have always remained favorably high.37 As for crude rubber, the prices are determined by the laws of supply and demand on the world market. Hence, Thai participation in large-scale rubber production would in no way be detrimental to the livelihood of Malay neighbors. Furthermore, it is doubtful that contiguous villages of the same ethnic category would display such extreme economic contrasts; I certainly detected none among the other Malay villages of the area. Noncommercial tobacco production among Malays increases gradually as one walks further down the road leading away from Siam Village. To a certain extent, it has been the Thais' dogged resolution to perpetuate their distinctive cultural tradition which has led to so abrupt a change in crop distribution. Despite the high risk and comparatively low profits involved in their tobacco production, the Siam Villagers persist in this enterprise, rather than capitalizing on the recent threefold increase in rice prices. Between 1971 and mid-1974, irrigation facilities were extended to practically all Siam Village paddy lands, and still the Thais were reluctant to join their Malay neighbors in double-cropping rice for sale as a cash crop. During those three years alone, the average selling price of unhusked rice rose from about M$12 to MS32.50 per pikul (1 pikul = 100 catties), or an increase of 171 percent. The price of local tobacco in season only increased about 39 percent during the same period, from M$.18 to M$.25 per folded sheet. At this point I would like to suggest some reasons why Siam and Melayu Villagers hesitate to alter their time-honored dichotomous agricultural relations. In so doing, I hope to illustrate how such contrastive cultural patterns as this one can perform both socially exclusionary and economically complementary functions at the same time. The role of social interaction in sustaining microcultural boundaries will also be emphasized. Earlier I remarked that there seemed to be a "tacit" agreement operating between Siam and Melayu Villagers with respect to their inviolable right not to divulge technological secrets about rubber or tobacco cultivation. This ban on the discussion—between members of the two adjacent groups—of a particular cultural distinction is a very common and effective device for reinforcing interethnic cultural segregation. To my knowledge, such verbal prohibitions are strictly adhered to in everyday interaction, even though they include a great variety of tabooed subjects.

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45

As I illustrated in chapter 1, broaching these subjects with members of the outgroup is a symbolic act expressing solidarity or intimacy. When asked how they would react if a Malay neighbor inquired about tobaccogrowing techniques, most Thai informants replied that they would feel very embarrassed or upset. I am not in a position to explain how such mutually understood prohibitions arise, but I have observed parents instructing their children not to bother outgroup children about such matters. A common complaint of Thai schoolchildren, especially those in their teens, is that Malay pupils ask too many embarrassing questions about Thai religion and diet. However, by the time they reach adulthood, Malay neighbors seem to have learned not to pry into such matters. As a tiny minority, the Thais are more self-conscious about cultural differences than are Malays, and accordingly there are fewer violators of communications taboos among Thais. They are generally extremely timid about witnessing Malay religious ceremonies or attending Melayu Village social gatherings in private homes. More will be said about this spatial avoidance in my discussion of interethnic spatial relations. But here I would note that parallel taboos exist in linguistic and spatial dimensions. What cannot be discussed with an outsider should not be witnessed either. Such are the rules of localized interethnic etiquette which assures the maintenance of ethnic boundaries and the reduction of conflict in daily interaction. Returning from a rather lengthy digression, I would venture to speculate that local tobacco cultivation, along with several other cultural traits which we shall examine, has come to be valued for its esoteric nature. It contributes to the integrity of the Siam Village cultural identity while magnifying the village's distinctiveness vis-à-vis the surrounding plural society. As will become evident shortly, it is also a pivotal element in the complex web of complementary agricultural activities which bind Siam and Melayu villages together economically. Were the local Thai tobacco production to be superseded by large-scale double-cropping during the dry season, major adjustments would have to be made in several facets of the economic life of both villages. Students of Malaysian agriculture (see, for example, Jackson, 1972: 85-86) have long been aware of the difficulties involved in instituting double-cropping practices among Kelantanese Malay peasants. Both Jackson (1972:85-86) and Craig (1935:371-373) have taken note of the absence of even the most primitive sorts of irrigation facilities prior to the establishment of government irrigation schemes. Even the cultivation of paddy along small streams or drains has traditionally depended almost entirely on rainfall. In many areas where dry-season paddy farming has always been feasible, villagers have shown hardly any interest. It is true that the cultivation of rice as a cash crop has become a lucrative occupa-

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tion only in the last few years; but other equally significant economic factors have been responsible for the villagers' refusal to double-crop. Paramount among these factors has been the paucity of grazing land available for Kelantan's large cattle population. Cattle raising has been an integral part of every Kelantanese village economy: water buffalos and oxen have been used in plowing and harrowing; female cattle are raised to bear calves; the older animals are sold for slaughter, especially around the time of important Malay religious festivities; and, as Swift (1957) has indicated, owning cattle is a customary way for Malays to hold reserves. When a villager grows a single rice crop during the year, his fallow paddy land, with its straw stumps and tender new grasses, becomes essential grazing land in the dry season. Many paddy fields remain partially flooded throughout the year and may not be grazeable by cows, which dislike wet, muddy tethering spots,38 but water buffalos, as their name implies, thrive under such conditions. Significantly, Melayu Villagers, but not Siam Villagers, raise large numbers of water buffalos." As mentioned earlier, Malay and Thai paddy fields are interspersed in many places so that they are equally accessible by members of either village. There is a regional tradition in this part of Kelantan that harvested paddy land reverts back to the status of public property until it is either plowed again or formally claimed by its owner for some special private use. Normally, there is little use in the dry season for the moist clay soils of Siam Village paddy land except as grazing areas for Malay water buffalos. Tobacco and vegetables, which are mostly grown on elevated garden land, require more porous soils to prosper. As long as Siam Villagers refrain from planting a second rice crop, the only useful vegetation which appears on most of the paddy fields is the abundant wild grass and edible weeds. In a few instances, profiteering villagers have been known to claim exclusive rights over the fallow land to permit the rapid-growing grasses to mature. This is done by placing twigs in the ground as " n o trespass" markers. These villagers then either cut and sell the tall grass as cow fodder or collect a rental fee for grazing rights. More commonly, however, the moist land is allowed to lie fallow while Malay buffalos feed on its grassy cover. As the animals graze throughout these months, they deposit a valuable coating of manure which annually replenishes the soil's supply of vital nutrients. Although Thais regularly use the more compact cow manure as fertilizer for their garden crops, watery buffalo manure has never been utilized except in this context. Thus, by leaving their fields open, they manage to economize by reducing the need for fertilizer. The Malays, most of whom double-crop, must spend much larger sums of money for commercially manufactured fertilizers to supplement their homemade burnt earth. 40 The latter type of organic fertilizer is sometimes produced by burning the rice stumps after

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47

the harvest. In the process, Malay cattle are deprived of much of their traditional dry-season fodder. As more and more Malays take up doublecropping, their dependence on fallow Thai fields increases. The Thai paddy land accordingly receives more fertilizer. If Siam Villagers were to change their minds and intensively double-crop their fields, it would constitute a damaging blow to the Melayu Village cattle industry. The acquisition of adequate fertilizer has been a chronic problem among Kelantanese villagers. By far the most practical natural fertilizer is animal manure, but its use has been nearly unheard of in traditional Malay paddy agriculture, except when dropped by grazing cattle during the dry season (see Jackson, 1972:76). In the past, when Malays only grew a single crop of rice, the combination of burnt earth and sediment from the annual flooding enriched their paddy soil enough to provide adequate yields.41 Cow dung, however, has long been an essential element in both Chinese and Thai agriculture, especially where the cultivation of garden crops is concerned. The Siam Village tobacco industry has always relied heavily upon liberal supplies of cow manure obtained from neighboring Malay villages. As Siam Villagers have readily admitted, their tobacco production would be severely hampered if their only source of manure were their own cows. In jest, they remark that under such circumstances, they would probably have to resort to scavenging along roads and footpaths for excremental odds and ends. Until just a few years ago, Malay neighbors used to supply Siam Villagers with large quantities of free cow manure. The Thais would be called to a Malay village to remove accumulated droppings from the floors of cow pens. My Thai informants believe that Malays will have nothing to do with manure because it is unclean. According to local Islamic belief, using manure, and especially raw manure, would be considered makroh, or "morally undesirable," as would any profits derived from its sale.42 Such unwritten proscriptions were normally abided by in the days before "money became more important than morals." Nowadays Malays are experimenting with the use of burnt manure and have begun to demand cash for the raw variety. A "penful," averaging about 750 catties, cost about M$35 in 1974. Regardless of the price imposed, it is clear that the cultivation of Siam Village tobacco has come to depend upon Malay economic cooperation in supplying this manure. If the manure is available at nearby villages like Melayu Village, it is considerably less costly because of the savings in transportation fees.43 Few Malay villagers in Kelantan have been willing to compete with the Chinese as commercial producers of vegetables (see, for example, Downs, 1967:167). Less than one Melayu Village household in five grows its own vegetables, let alone any surplus produce for sale. In response to, or in conjunction with, this apparent Malay indifference, Siam Villagers

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have become specialists in the cultivation of a dozen or so local vegetable varieties. These include: salad greens, a kind of spinach, okra, long green beans, corn, various types of squash, cucumbers, and melons. Every Thai household with a little garden land at its disposal44 plants some vegetables and usually plans for a moderate surplus which can be sold at a local market. Part of an individual family's surplus stock may also be used in an informal exchange system among Siam Village households. But a much larger portion is consumed mainly by Melayu Villagers. These locally grown vegetables, like the noncommercial tobacco, are sold at prices considerably lower than those found at larger junction markets. As with the local tobacco, Malay women usually serve as middlemen, buying up large quantities at wholesale prices and reselling them at their stalls in the nearby markets. There are no substantial profits for Thais in this vegetable industry, especially since they seldom sell their produce retail.45 But, again, this custom demonstrates the wonderfully complex economic complementarity which has evolved between Melayu and Siam Villagers. Siam Villagers buy relatively few agricultural products from neighboring Malays. Ironically, those items which they do obtain from Malays are directly related to the pig raising industry. When Thai domestic pigs are set free to forage around during the day, they cause irreparable damage to the root crops which constitute an important starch supplement for the Thai diet, particularly when rice is in short supply. Over the years, Siam Villagers have come to rely more and more on Melayu Villagers for manioc and yams. In addition, feed is needed for the pigs. Sago wood is regularly purchased from Malays and ground into starch for pig mush. A much more expensive commodity, rice bran, is obtained at the Malayowned rice mills. In the last ten years its price has reportedly multiplied fourfold; 46 all the same, it remains the staple food of Thai pigs and chickens. The Thai dependence on Malay bran is rather representative of the overall imbalance in the exchange system between Siam and Melayu Villages' dovetailing economies. The proceeds from the sale of all Thai vegetables do not even cover the cost of the rice bran. In the next section I will examine this economic disequilibrium in greater detail, speculate about its function, and suggest why it is able to persist. SIAM VILLAGE'S PECULIAR "BALANCE-OF-PAYMENTS" DEFICIT

Inspecting Siam Village's agricultural activities, one is struck by the ostensibly one-way flow of capital out of the hands of the Thais and into the pockets of their Malay associates. The Thais' refusal to double-crop would appear to benefit Melayu Villagers more than the Thais themselves. Most of the tobacco and vegetables sold outside Siam Village pass through the hands of Malay vendors who extract a lion's share of the

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49

profits. Thai crude rubber, chickens, coconuts, and other fruits are likewise collected at low wholesale prices by local agents from Malay business enterprises (and an occasional Chinese firm). The economic imbalance is not confined to these products alone. Numerous goods and services provided by Malays to Thais require considerable cash expenditures. Most Siam Village rice, for instance, is milled at two local mills owned by wealthy Melayu Villagers. In 1974 the cost of milling 1 pikul of padi (or "unhusked rice") was from MS.80 to MS1.00, depending on the particular mill.47 The customer can pay in cash or rice of equivalent value. Siam Villagers estimate that one adult villager requires as much as 200 gantang4' (1 gantang = about 6 catties) of padi a year. The average household, after making merit and receiving guests, jointly uses between 500 and 600 gantang, or over 3,000 catties of padi each year. After milling, the 3,000 catties of padi become 1,500 catties of polished rice. To mill 3,000 catties (or 30 pikul) of padi costs the household between M$24 and M$30. This is a considerable sum in light of the low wages for agricultural laborers. Women, for example, may receive less than M$4 for an eight-hour day of reaping. 49 Thus, some villagers must perform an entire week's labor just to pay for one year's rice milling for their families. No Siam Villagers have milled their rice by hand for decades. Nor do Siam Villagers plow their own fields any longer. In the past, when they, like their Malay neighbors, raised water buffalos, many could do their own plowing, though it was a laborious task requiring as long as a week to cover one acre of deep paddy mud. Nowadays (1974) one of several Malay-owned tractors is hired for approximately M$15 per hour to plow paddy and garden plots. The cost per acre averages about M$25. It is noteworthy that Melayu Villagers with less cash, but plenty of buffalos, are far less dependent on tractors. Two out of five buffalo owners use their animals to plow their fields, and some may even hire out to neighbors. Buffalos are especially useful in harrowing deeply submerged paddy fields. In mid-1974, eight Siam Village households were obliged to engage Malay water buffalos and their owners to harrow paddy land at a rate of M$5 or M$6 for one morning's work. Usually about one acre can be completed in that time. All Siam Villagers harrow their paddy, but most are able to use Thai-owned oxen to rake the drier fields. Another context in which Thais pay out cash to Malays during the paddy-farming cycle is the purchase of fertilizer at neighboring Malay dry goods shops. As of 1974, few Thais were willing to invest in chemical fertilizers, which cost between M$25 and M$30 per 100-pound bag. I have already described the purchase of cow manure, some of which is used on Thai paddy fields to supplement the droppings of grazing cattle. But a third kind of fertilizer, "wood ashes," is also popular among

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villagers and is normally bought at one of several local Malay stores for about M$7 per 100-pound bag. Siam Villagers point out that as much as M$150 per acre could easily be spent yearly on fertilizer to improve crop yields, but they are more inclined to spend between M$30 and M$40 per acre. If they were to double-crop, however, these figures would have to be doubled or even tripled. In the case of fertilizer, as with milling and tractor rental, we are reminded how dependent Thai rice farming has become on cash investments. Yet, very seldom is rice production the source of any new capital for Siam Villagers.50 Had the Siam Villagers no other source of income than the proceeds from the sale of their agricultural products, their economic survival would be highly unlikely. I recall that during my first few weeks in their village, I administered an economic survey in which I inquired about the ways that members of each household earned their living. Most respondents mentioned only agricultural income or, in a few cases, wages from employment in Chinese firms. The majority bemoaned their plight as a downtrodden minority stripped of their right to acquire new lands and ignored by the government. Compared with their Melayu Village neighbors, though, they appeared to me to be relatively prosperous as a group. Admittedly, they seemed to own fewer motor vehicles, less jewelry, and fewer stylish clothes than their Malay acquaintances, but in several other respects they exhibited considerable affluence. First and foremost, they enjoyed a much richer diet. Except for the most impoverished few, they usually purchased small saltwater fish from Malay vendors on bicycles—rather than fishing for tiny freshwater fish in the paddy fields, as so many of their Malay neighbors regularly did." Their two principal daily meals frequently included generous quantities of meat (especially wild boar), expensive Chinese vegetable dishes, and a postprandial cup of coffee with condensed milk. Melayu Village cuisine, on the other hand, struck me as unusually frugal. Much spialler quantities of lauk, or "condiments," were eaten with the rice, and meat was practically never consumed except on festive occasions (see also Downs, 1967:168). Thai women, when they went shopping at the junction market over a mile away, nearly always hired pedicabs" for the round trip at a cost of M$.60. Large numbers of villagers booked taxis for excursions to temple fairs in distant Thai villages. Then, too, many Siam Villagers spent their afternoons gambling at mahjong with Malay friends and never seemed to be short of funds. Finally, Siam Villagers flatly rejected certain types of employment, such as the weaving of atap roof sections from sago palm leaves. These low-profit activities were considered too degrading even though they were common pastimes among less well-to-do Melayu Villagers. In rural Kelantan a person's wealth has traditionally been measured in

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51

real estate and cattle. Among more materialistic, status-conscious Kelantanese, manufactured goods from the West and Japan have also become emblems of wealth and prestige. Using these criteria for assessing individual wealth, one would conclude that Siam Villagers are quite impoverished. Yet, as we have observed, they tend to enjoy a lifestyle at least as comfortable as that of materially wealthier neighbors. In chapters 3 and 4,1 will deal with the alternate sources of income which they have successfully tapped and the institutions which have evolved to make these sources accessible. At that time it will become evident that Siam Villagers also derive ample material benefits of a collective nature through their association with their temple. Nonetheless, there is an image of poverty which is actively perpetuated by the Siam Villagers, whose values militate against individual acquisitiveness. In chapters 4 and 7,1 will discuss the function this image of indigence serves in stimulating their economic relations with outgroup patrons and clients. For the moment I would like to suggest how the economically subordinate role they have assumed visà-vis their immediate Malay neighbors has helped to foster cordial relations between the two groups. As part of one sociometric survey conducted among Melayu Villagers, I attempted to elicit Malay attitudes regarding other ethnic groups with whom they regularly came in contact. To assure that their responses would be more substantive, I requested the names of acquaintances in the various outgroups and a brief description of the quality of these associations. Much as expected, relations with non-Muslim outgroups were usually of the "secondary" variety discussed in chapter 1. Generally speaking, interpersonal relationships with both Chinese and Thai acquaintances were based on regularized economic transactions." But whereas transactions with Thai neighbors were deemed mutually beneficial and pleasant, those with Chinese (usually merchants) were felt to be mostly at the Malays' expense.54 Melayu Villagers' perceptions of Thais as an ethnic category vary somewhat from the attitudes of other Malays who maintain less frequent contacts with Thais. They are less fearful about the extraordinary magical powers attributed to Thais and more cognizant of the status Thais and Malays share as economically depressed groups in a rapidly developing nation. Although they abhor the Thai practice of pig-raising, as do their congeners throughout Kelantan, and readily brand the Thais as unclean,55 their feelings toward Thais are mostly positive. When asked about how Malays and Thais differ, almost every respondent distinguished Thais as kafir, or "heathens," who spoke a different tongue, and who enjoyed a more varied, if forbidden, diet. Many praised Thai village unity and charity as superior to their own. Thais were perceived by some as being even more trustworthy than Malay ingroup neighbors.56 And most significantly, Thais were described

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by many as being economically less fortunate than Malays, not only in regard to land ownership, but also in their employment opportunities outside the villages. Thais were considered uneducated and ill-prepared to fill positions in the government bureaucracy. The point I wish to make here is that Siam Villagers were in no way perceived as an economic menace, although they do share much of the same economic niche occupied by Melayu Villagers. Their underprivileged economic status was, if anything, a point in their favor in evoking Malay sympathies. To Malay respondents, the most salient and irreconcilable differences between the two groups were their religious and dietary practices. In these two cultural spheres, Thais seemed to pose a threat to Malay morals and ritual purity. Negative reaction to the Chinese, in contrast, was directed overwhelmingly at their alleged commercial exploitation and dishonesty, and only secondarily at their cultural differences. Where Chinese ethical practices were not mentioned, their wealth and business interests were still the central topic of conversation; very little seemed to be known about Chinese noncommercial customs. The growing competition between Malays and Chinese in the political and economic arenas (see, for example, Nash, 1974a:257) and its concomitant bitterness are almost entirely absent in the relations between Siam and Melayu Villagers. To be sure, the Thais are dissatisfied with their inferior legal status, but they seldom project the blame for their predicament onto Melayu Village neighbors.57 Even if rancor were to simmer in their minds, it would never emerge as overt hostility toward Malay acquaintances. Practically without exception, the Siam Village economy has evolved in ways that obviate competitive snarls with adjacent Malay interests over scarce resources. Instead, it has developed in response to the needs of its pluralistic social surroundings. Owing to government policies, Kelantan's Thai minority is, for all intents and purposes, out of contention for newly available agricultural land. Because of their cultural conservatism, Siam Villagers have never been in a position to compete for government jobs or places in institutions of higher learning." There are no known cases of Siam Village men vying for the attention of Melayu Village women. Nor have local Thais performed the functions of middlemen for Malay neighbors," though there are many long-standing agreements between Thai cultivators and Melayu Village middlemen. By turning outward for additional, nonagricultural sources of income, Siam Villagers can sustain deficits in their complementary economic relations with neighboring Malay communities. In so doing, they not only avoid social friction, but also earn the sympathies and cooperation of those Malays who benefit from such economic arrangements. The latter (see, for example, p. 68) have become important links in the communications

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networks which facilitate the Thais' exploitation of a very diffuse economic niche. We shall learn in the next two chapters how cultural differences have been capitalized on to create this new economic niche for the Siam Villagers where none previously existed. Then, in chapter 7, we shall see how this adaptive complementarity has reinforced ethnic differentiation in an ongoing feedback process.

CHAPTER 3

Gainful Relations with Outgroup Communities Via Uniquely Thai Institutions

THE

Manooraa

CULT 1

Among Siam and Melayu Villagers there is a popular saying: " A countryside without 'players' has no spirit." 2 The term "players" here signifies the performer-adventurer culture heroes known as nagleeij in Kelantanese Thai, and pament (or ment) in Kelantanese Malay. These somewhat romanticized figures include regular participants in the various performing arts, hunters, gamblers like the owners of gamecocks, and almost any man or woman of any age who frequently wanders out of his or her native village in search of excitement. Much of the respect that these individuals command from their fellow villagers derives from their roles as innovators and carriers of outside cultural influences. Since they have often been the only members of their villages to become familiar with the way of life in distant urban centers, they have been looked to for leadership in dealings with government officials and other outsiders. Because the activities of Thai nagleeij have brought them into more intimate contact with people from other ethnic groups, they tend to be more knowledgeable about the local Malay language and culture and more at ease cultivating friendships with outgroup villagers. In chapter 1, I discussed the role played by Thai nagleeij in the establishment of Siam Village. During the last century, the two major categories of nagleeij in Siam Village, the boar hunters and the manooraa performers, have continued to serve as crucial elements in cementing enduring social relations between the Thai community and surrounding Malay communities. This section will be concerned with the development of the Kelantanese Thai manooraa dance-drama qua social institution. The manooraa institution, in fact, has rivaled the Buddhist monkhood in

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importance as an avenue for horizontal and vertical social mobility and a vehicle for the transmission of a local literary tradition. We shall see that experienced manooraa performers have not only earned respect as talented showmen and literati but have also acquired reputations as experts in the art of love magic. So great has their legendary prowess as charmers been that their occult powers are now widely believed to be shared by most Thai villagers in Kelantan. Accordingly, a considerable demand has arisen for the services of Siam Village men as love-charm specialists in a society plagued with marital discord. A brief description of the Kelantanese Thai manooraa performance is in order. Several more detailed treatments of the traditional art form are already available in the literature.3 There are noticeable differences between the idiom as presented in Kelantan and those versions performed in Thai cultural areas to the north. In the past, the prosperity of local troupes has depended upon their ability to adapt their dialogue to the local Malay dialect.4 Though the conventional invocation and songs are still intoned in the local Thai dialect, the improvised comic verse, which constitutes the heart of a performance, is usually delivered in Malay for the enjoyment of outgroup sponsors and guests. The evolution of the Kelantanese manooraa has paralleled in many respects the development of the quite similar Malay makyong dance-drama. Both were popular entertainments in the courts of Kelantanese sultans for well over a century, and many performers gained experience as participants in both genres. Although they differ as to underlying literary themes—the manooraa being based primarily on stories from the Indian Jataka tales while the makyong has incorporated themes from popular Malay romances—they freely borrow episodes from each other's comic repertoires.5 Virtuosity in a manooraa performance is most apparent in the graceful execution of the stylized dance steps and the skill with which the performers improvise their witty rhyming verses, often to the rhythm of the instrumental accompaniment. Good looks and the subtle manipulation of sexual innuendos undoubtedly add to a performer's charm. Every skit must include the roles of the hero, heroine, and clown. Not uncommonly, the clown is played by a Malay, often an experienced makyong player. Because of his superior facility with the Malay language and humor, he is more effective as the principal comic figure. Malays are also known to participate in minor roles and frequently serve as additional musicians playing the stringed, wind, and percussion instruments also found in Malay shadow plays. A manooraa troupe may thus consist of about ten to thirty persons—actors, musicians, and their replacements for especially long engagements—and in recent times such a company is likely to include several Malay associates. Yet, the magical powers at-

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tributed to Thai manooraa masters are not considered transferable to Malay colleagues, who never formally study the Thai-Pali incantations (mon) through which such powers are activated.4 The inclusion of the Malay comedians reflects the reduced emphasis on traditional oral literature in favor of sheer light entertainment resembling that offered by the modern media. The manooraa, like most traditional forms of entertainment in Kelantan, has declined in popularity as the availability of motion pictures has increased and as formal schooling supersedes these idioms as a medium of cultural transmission. Although manooraa skits are still performed at Thai temple fairs, the younger villagers seem less attentive than their elders and far less familiar with conventional stories and techniques. In the past, when a band of players could be hired for a modest fee and a few free meals, well-to-do Malay and Chinese villagers would engage a troupe in conjunction with the sponsorship of household celebrations. Rural Chinese, especially, were fond of entertaining their guests at traditional gambling parties while an ongoing manooraa spectacle was being staged within the household's compound. Such arrangements are still rather common among Chinese, but the current cost of a talented troupe, perhaps M$70 to M$100 for an evening, is becoming prohibitive.7 Only the wealthiest hosts can afford such entertainment for more than a single evening, unless guests help subsidize the show. Moreover, whereas performances once continued throughout the night, local ordinances now restrict such festivities to the daylight and evening hours. Usually, by midnight, all merrymaking has ceased. Siam Village performers still receive invitations now and then to entertain in small groups (usually about four players) at Malay circumcision and wedding celebrations, but, otherwise, Malay patronage is confined to urban organizations like municipal fund-raising committees and promoters of indigenous art forms. Even so, Thai manooraa performances are familiar sights to many rural Malays, who are permitted to watch such productions at Thai temple fairs or who tag along with performing friends and relatives. There is always ample space available to accommodate additional spectators from neighboring areas. Most will sit on mats which are spread out on the ground around the makeshift bamboo-andthatch stage platform. Traditionally, each local troupe has also attracted a large following of Thai youths, many of whom eventually become performing nagleeq themselves. These frequent tours have provided opportunities for Thai performers and members of their entourages to cultivate friendships with Malay and Chinese villagers over a wide area of Kelantan. It is noteworthy, however, that Siam Village manooraa players count no closely neighboring Malays among their regular performing companions. Two Melayu Villagers have served as extra musi-

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dans on occasion, but none have ever participated as members of a local troupe. There is no makyong tradition in Melayu Village, only some erstwhile members of a Malay shadow play company. Most commonly, ties are formed with outgroup individuals having similar interests and dispositions. Manooraa and makyong specialists are encouraged to take part in each other's productions. I found that Siam Village manooraa masters are familiar with great numbers of well-known makyong players and count some of them among their closest friends. Some manooraa masters, in turn, are widely recognized as colorful figures throughout the Kelantanese countryside. The social rewards surely outweigh the monetary rewards for all but the most renowned performers. The manooraa has always been a secondary occupation, supplemental to the normal performance of one's agricultural duties. Players have often been called away from their chores on short notice to entertain for several days at a far-off village while relatives and neighbors look after their crops and animals. Although the chief actors in a company receive a large portion of the profits, that sum seldom exceeds the value of the manpower lost at home. Nevertheless, as recently as two decades ago, at least one Siam Village boy in four undertook to learn the basic manooraa skills. Few ever achieved the status of "master" (aacaan), but many spent several years attending lessons offered free' by a local master. According to local tradition, boys usually have begun their instruction in their early teens, often while they are serving as temple boys. They customarily train together as a " c o h o r t " (run) which may continue to meet for several years under the tutelage of a particular master. Since most villages have only one or two practicing masters, and some even have none, it is not unusual for youths to seek instruction in villages other than their own, especially if they happen to be serving as temple boys away from home. During their long years of apprenticeship, classmates from different villages form friendships that are renewed throughout their lives. Prior to the introduction of government schools, youths had more time to devote to both religious and manooraa studies. In fact, the two traditions have gone hand in hand. Masters have preferred pupils who have been at least partially literate in Thai, for the verses of songs and incantations are to be copied and memorized from written texts. But literacy in Malay is also considered to be an asset insofar as more and more of the dialogue is being translated into Malay. Evidently the mastery of such materials can be an arduous task, comparable in many ways to the study of religious scriptures by those in the monkhood. The parallels to be drawn between these two traditions are numerous and will be covered in the ensuing discussion. Both traditions have represented potential careers for energetic village youths whose am-

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bitions include more than simple agricultural prosperity. Each institution offers its own social and psychological rewards. Youths have chosen one course or the other depending on their individual needs and temperaments. While the monkhood has promised security and respect, the manooraa has offered its adherents excitement and a different set of highly valued social skills. Owing to the contrasting nature of the two lifestyles, namely, contemplative celibacy as opposed to polished romantic charm, it has of course been impossible for a youth to earnestly pursue both careers simultaneously. Moreover, the customary timing of their initiation procedures has practically ruled out the acquisition of expertise in both religious and secular traditions. In Kelantan the majority of the monks and manooraa players have always been youthful. Within each institution there are elders, that is, the abbots and manooraa masters, whose function it is to train younger members and supervise temples or troupes. But traditionally, most of the accomplished participants have served for a limited number of years before retiring to assume the role of full-time household leaders. The peak of a manooraa performer's career falls in his mid-twenties—exactly the same years which most Kelantanese Thai men spend in the monkhood.' In fact, regardless of a performer's previous experience, he cannot be initiated as a full-fledged manooraa master or "nooraa" until he reaches the age of twenty-two years.10 This is precisely the age at which the majority of Kelantanese Thai men are ordained as monks. Consequently, career performers usually curtail their stays in the monkhood, seldom serving for more than one Lenten season. Performers complain that they forget much of their repertoire if they prolong their monastic experience. Early departure from the monkhood in no way stigmatizes these men, however, for many go on to become influential village leaders. Some may also study Buddhist texts as laymen in later life. As indicated, the most highly valued attribute of the manooraa actor is his charm. Though in certain contexts, an experienced performer may be feared for his ability to capture the hearts of innocent young women, it is equally true that such players have been considered very desirable marriage partners. Before the spread of government schools into the countryside, these nagleeij were reputed to be among the cleverest of rural folk. In a society where people usually depend on their own resources for entertainment, these worldly comedians are sought after as conversationalists. Among rather reticent villagers an effervescent trouper is often welcomed as a neighbor or in-law. Rather than being rejected for being too demonstrative, they have been emulated by those who admire their social skills. Parents have been known to enroll homely, sickly, or introverted sons in their classes with the expectation that they might achieve charm and good looks. This was once a common therapy pre-

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scribed by village doctors for melancholy youths. In the end, however, it has been hard work, intelligence, and talent which distinguish the exceptional performer. Doubtless some of the appeal of the players also stems from their association with skits about young people in love. The hero and the clown are often portrayed as rakish young men and are permitted considerable liberties in their use of suggestive gestures and language. The leading men are also expected to dress in the latest fashions and display poise both on- and offstage. Offstage, the manooraa actor on parade has symbolized the stylish figure which so many village youths aspire to be, but none can really afford to be. His accoutrements are commonly borrowed from various friends and neighbors. Siam Villagers note that the first among them to accept new clothing styles, such as long, Western-style trousers, have also been the manooraa players. As a finished product, then, the manooraa figure is apt to be the realization of a collective fantasy rather than simply an attractive person. It is no wonder that women spectators are alleged to fall madly in love with such performers and wander off after them at the end of a performance. Several former Thai players reported to me that they had refused to pass on their skills to their sons lest they should become embroiled in some unfortunate romantic triangle with an amorous Malay woman spectator and her outraged spouse." Evidently the temptation is great to become involved with the young women who flock to see their shows. The very occasion of such a performance provides, after all, a traditional context for courtship among young people. One additional aspect of a manooraa performer's charm remains to be discussed: his supernatural powers. Aside from the generalized romantic attraction attributed to all such players, there is a collection of special formulae passed down from a master to his advanced apprentices. These combinations of Pali and Thai words, along with appropriate symbolic offerings are used to conjure up the ancestral spirits of the manooraa for protection or assistance in some undertaking, be it good or evil. The same spirits are regularly propitiated during the invocation preceding every major performance. 12 They are held to be quite powerful by Thais and non-Thais alike. Only qualified aacaan, or masters, can invoke them; and for that reason, these men are frequently called upon to serve as spirit doctors during emergencies such as severe illnesses. At such times, they appeal to their ancestral teacher-performers for assistance in overcoming the afflictions. As Ginsberg (1972:177-178) has indicated, these masters have long been considered as among the most powerful magicians in the southern Thai area. In Kelantan they are still believed capable of charming people into falling in love or falling out of love with anyone they designate. Malays and Chinese, however, have generally failed to make the distinction between these expert practitioners and less

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qualified ones when procuring love charms. As a result, numerous selfproclaimed love-charm specialists have appeared among Kelantan's Thai communities. Only a fraction of the latter are legitimate manooraa masters, but all have been enjoying the profits of a prosperous industry rooted in the Thai ethnic stereotype of the love magician. A cursory survey of Kelantan's current manooraa specialists revealed that those who have attained the status of master are not only highly respected for their arcane knowledge, but, in most cases, also wield considerable political influence. Such men, usually referred to by their honorific title of "nooraa," are a slowly dying breed in a rapidly modernizing society. Once, their predecessors headed opposing troupes who vied for the patronage of local Malay nobles and wealthy Chinese, and who were known for their use of sorcery in trying to liquidate their competitors. The nooraa's mafioso image no longer prevails today; in fact, quite friendly relations now obtain among the twenty-odd practicing masters scattered throughout Kelantan's Thai villages. Most of them are over forty years of age and no longer perform with permanent companies of players. But several remain vocal representatives of their community. Some of the most influential members of the Thai-Buddhist Association of Kelantan, for instance, are also prominent nooraa. Of late, Kelantan's Thai community has received a lot of publicity throughout Malaysia thanks to a televised series of manooraa skits recorded in Kuala Lumpur. I was impressed upon finding many reputable Thai village leaders among the ranks of the nooraa who performed in Kuala Lumpur. Although the nooraa plays no formal role in the local Buddhist temple organization, he may nonetheless function as a leading figure in animistic religious activities. He is consulted, for example, about the performance of rituals for the propitiation of the village's guardian spirits. Every year during the sixth Thai month, a manooraa performance has traditionally been staged as part of Siam Village's waj thog ceremonies propitiating the spirits of the paddy. Most spirits are believed to be particularly fond of such spectacles, and sponsoring a manooraa performance is one way of repaying a spirit for granting a favor requested by a supplicant (see Ginsberg, 1972:180). On these occasions a Siam Village nooraa usually serves as both organizer and intermediary. In many respects the nooraa's importance as a religious functionary has been comparable to that of a monk. Recognition of this fact has been expressed in the elaborate investiture ceremony celebrating the achievement of nooraa status by a young performer. The three-day ritual wherein the apprentice receives his full costume from his mentors, and thereby becomes a master himself, is closely modeled after the ordination ceremony for Buddhist monks.13 Among other things, the initiate must first be ritually purified. If he is married, he must actually be ordained

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briefly as a monk directly prior to the initiation, regardless of whether he has already served as a monk. Then, during the three days of festivities, which may be sponsored partly by the temple, the initiate must observe the first eight Buddhist precepts. Traditionally, apprentices were required to give obeisances to their masters in much the same way as a candidate for the monkhood would honor his superiors.14 The minimum age of initiates is the same as that for monks. Finally, the nooraa's initiation ceremony must be attended by monks who will offer their blessings. It is to these same monks that the nooraa dedicates his first performance as a master. In return for the temple's support, the nooraa will later contribute many hours of free entertainment to temple fairs. A significant difference between the career of a monk and that of a nooraa is the types of people they interact with. Both represent their village in activities involving outsiders. But whereas the monkhood serves to unite Kelantan's Thai and Chinese Buddhists, the activities of manooraa performers—and, for that matter, all Thai nagleetj—foster social contacts with all ethnic groups, and especially Malays. In chapter 4 we shall see how both types of contacts have been essential for the economic well-being of Siam Village. In the following section, I will describe in greater detail the development of the village's love-charm industry, which, I suggest, owes much of its success to the reputation attached to Kelantan's manooraa tradition. LOVE-MAGIC AND HATE-MAGIC SPECIALISTS

When Manning Nash (1974b:28-29) asked his Kelantanese Malay informants how local Thais differed from their Malay neighbors, a common response was to characterize the Thais as experts in the practice of black magic. Many laymen and monks among Kelantan's Thai villagers have acquired rather extraordinary reputations for their curative powers. I found among Kota Bharu's educated townsfolk of all ethnic groups the general impression that Thai charms and curses were the most efficacious and dangerous. Farrer (1933:261-262) recorded an incident in which local Thai priests were called in by Kelantanese Malay officials to exorcise malicious spirits from a government compound whose flagstaff had been struck by lightning. Among villagers, legendary tales have circulated portraying the magical powers of particular Thai practitioners, some of whom are still alive. One such famous figure, known beyond the borders of Kelantan, was the abbot of Siam Village's temple. The aging monk was already over eighty years old when I first met him, but he was still receiving visitors from many parts of Malaysia and Thailand. Often tourists in Kelantan would hear of his great curative powers and pay a special visit to the village to consult the old abbot or obtain a protective charm which he had blessed. His reputation was so awesome that many

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rural villagers, especially, would not approach the temple unaccompanied. It is a widespread belief in Kelantan that the disciples of a great curer may inherit some of his supernatural gifts along with the techniques he teaches them. In the last three decades, numerous monks from different Kelantanese and Naraathiwaad temples have come to study magic while serving under the abbot at Siam Village. Several of his former protégés have established considerable reputations for themselves and are now serving as abbots of their own temples. 15 A major factor in the selection of a temple's abbot is certainly his reputation as a magic practitioner who can draw substantial outside patronage to the temple. Urban Chinese, in particular, choose to patronize those temples with the most renowned monks. A major source of income for such temples consists of donations made by visitors in return for charms, herbal medicines, divinations, and other services provided by the abbots. The great abbot's teachings have benefited lay practitioners as well as career monks. Any man who has served as a temple boy, novice, or monk under the abbot has had the opportunity to learn some of the old man's techniques, if not through formal training, then by simple imitation. There are no examinations or certificates to distinguish the experts from the upstarts. Even with a very limited repertoire of Pali-Thai charms, a practitioner can impress most outgroup visitors. The very incomprehensibility of the Thai practitioner's incantations renders them more exotic and more impressive, but if the client also recognizes his magician to be a student of the famous abbot, his expectations will be much enhanced. And so it is with Siam Village's magic specialists: those with the most prosperous practices are widely known as being the abbot's students. But others benefit as well simply by being located in the same village. Not infrequently, a client shows up in the village in search of the abbot or some other well-known specialist only to find that particular practitioner is not at home, or, in the case of the abbot, too ill to receive visitors. Instead of returning home empty-handed, the visitor will usually settle for a consultation with some less well-known specialist. If the latter's charms or medicine prove effective, his career, in turn, is helped along since his new client may recommend his services to others. Thus, in many instances, a practitioner stands to profit just because of his membership in the right ethnic category and his proximity to some illustrious neighbor. Not only do many outgroup clients perceive the Thais' occult powers to be diffused throughout the Thai community, they also assume that they can be applied universally to any sort of supernatural enterprise, regardless of its moral implications. In local Malay the term referring to traditional magical and/or medical practitioners is b^m*. The Kelan-

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tanese Thai dialect has evolved a semantic equivalent in the phrase m->a baan, or simply maa, which has a slightly narrower usage in most of Thailand. In truth, there are innumerable specializations subsumed under the category of mas. An individual may claim expertise in any numbers of such specialties. In a survey of all of Kelantan's Thai villages, I found more than thirty varieties of specialists. They include: various kinds of healers for ailments caused by stomach parasites, broken bones, skin diseases, respiratory difficulties; experts at removing splinters and fishbones; specialists in quieting screaming infants; those who treat the insane; midwives; diviners, especially palmists, numerologists, and astrologers; exorcists; specialists in preparing curses (though these men would never openly avow that they pursued such a livelihood); and by far the most numerous, the love-magic practitioners. A follow-up investigation in two of the villages surveyed, indicated that a large fraction of those who derived some income from such services were initially unwilling to admit that they participated in these activities. Even in Siam Village, I was forever discovering new practices among men who had denied that they were at all interested in such avocations. To the best of my knowledge, there were twelve regularly practicing maa in Siam Village as of 1974. Of these, eight specialized in love charms among other things. Two were women, one being a midwife and the other treating children who had swallowed dangerous objects, or people with particles of foreign matter caught in their eyes." Though several had served as exorcists at one time or another, only three were believed to have dealt in hard-core black magic, and two of these were among the most prosperous villagers.17 As numerous informants would remark, the largest profits were to be made in the most sinful activities. Most practitioners flatly refused to fulfill clients' requests for magic that could harm others, even though there was a considerable demand for it. Those who were alleged to accept such assignments charged their vengeful clients dearly and took elaborate precautions to purge themselves afterwards, Usually they would attempt to compensate for their flirtations with the evil spirits by making extra merit for some time thereafter. One man was known to deceive his customers by only pretending to conjure up the wrath of spirits, but even that was considered risky business. It was not the spirits per se which people feared, but the karmic consequences of current malicious actions in future reincarnations. There were also at least two villagers who had studied m » techniques with the abbot while serving in the temple, but who had developed personal inhibitions which prevented them from practicing. Given the abundance of Malay practitioners, or bomoh, in all areas of the Kelantan region, why should it be unusual to find a large concentration of moo among Siam Villagers? As far as the usual curers are con-

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cerned, Siam Village has only a slightly higher representation per capita than most neighboring Malay villages. Siam Villagers are just as apt to seek out certain Malay medical practitioners as are Malays to consult Thais when the outgroup specialists are the only ones of their type in the area. Malays have their own beneficent Islamic genies, or jin islam, to whom they appeal for protection via a special Muslim intermediary (bomoh orang alim) just as Thais propitiate their own guardian angels, or theewadaa, which stem from Hindu-Buddhist tradition. True, the fame of Siam Village's abbot attracts a disproportionately high number of outsiders to the temple for medical advice and divinations, but otherwise the majority of the Malays or Chinese who seek the services of Thai mas, come to the Thai village on very confidential errands involving sorcery and enchantment. In most cases, they hope to harness Thai magical powers for the purposes of effecting some major change in interpersonal relations within their social environment. Specifically, they wish to influence, to their own satisfaction, the feelings of some third party. With the various charms they acquire, they may intend to render that third party more amorous, sympathetic, indifferent, or even hateful toward themselves or a fourth party. A practitioner who deals in these particular kinds of charms is referred to, in local Thai, as a maa Ma sanee ("charm medicine practitioner") or mas sanee for short. This term, too, has a literal equivalent in local Malay: b^m-» ubaqparjaseh or b^m^parjaseh. As I indicated earlier, there are eight such specialists practicing in Siam Village—a truly extraordinary number for so small a community. Equally remarkable is the nearly total absence of Malay b-»m> payaseh in the villages surrounding Siam Village, for these magicians are common figures throughout peninsular Malaysia. How have the Thais gained this apparent monopoly over an occupation which has always been an integral part of rural Malay village life? In the following discussion I will answer this question by demonstrating how Siam Villagers have capitalized on their status as an isolated ethnic minority noted for its powerful magicians and charming performers. To understand why love-charm specialists have prospered in Kelantan, one need only examine the marriage and divorce statistics for the region. Various writers" have called attention to the fact that during the last three decades the ratio of divorces to marriages among Kelantan's Malays has approximated seven to ten. My own survey of Melayu Village revealed that 64 percent of the household heads and their spouses had been divorced at least once. In comparison, only 35 percent of Siam Village's household heads and their spouses had ever been divorced. More remarkable were the figures on multiple divorces. Of those Malay respondents over fifty years of age, the average rate of divorce was 1.8

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Thai love-charm practitioner preparing a charm for a Malay client.

PLATE 1. A

times per person, whereas only two Thais of that age group had been divorced more than once. Among both groups the tendency was for divorcés to marry divorcées with approximately the same kinds of marriage records. Other investigators (for example, Rosemary Firth, 1966) have published similar findings. In fact, almost every ethnographer of Kelantan has dealt with the phenomenon of brittle marriage. " In a few words I will attempt to summarize some of the explanations put forth by these scholars to account for the Kelantanese Malays' notoriety as the most divorce-prone inhabitants of Malaysia. Because Kelantan remains a stronghold for traditional Malay customs, a greater percentage of first marriages are still arranged by the parents. Such arrangements normally call for a girl to be wed shortly after puberty, usually to a youth in his late teens. Thus the initial marriage ages for Kelantanese are markedly lower than those for other states. Such writers as Smith (1963:304) and Raybeck (1974:228) emphasize how slim the chances are that such emotionally immature individuals will be able to adjust to a relationship which is thrust upon them in this manner. Local Thais, in contrast, long ago abandoned the practice of arranged marriages. Although the majority of Melayu Villagers no longer strictly adhere to the custom, young people still marry much earlier than their

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Thai neighbors. Except for those few who pursue a higher education or a stint in the military, most Malay village boys marry around the age of nineteen while girls may still marry in their mid-teens. Siam Village men, on the other hand, usually wait until they have been ordained as monks, so that they seldom marry before the age of twenty-two. Their brides, as a rule, are in their late teens or early twenties. Raybeck (1974:228) maintains that the considerable sensitivity of the Kelantanese Malays to social affronts is a contributing factor. Both Swift (1958:158) and Downs (1967:145) emphasize the social pressures in a Malay community against those who remain single. Being married is an integral part of adult status. Widowed or divorced people who succumb to such pressure to remarry quickly, do so partly with practical intentions, namely, to enjoy once again an economic arrangement based on the division of labor by sexes. Such marriages of convenience hold little promise of durability, but then divorce is generally less traumatic when repeated and is hardly deemed immoral. Besides, subsequent weddings are far less elaborate. A simple meal for a few friends and relatives, and an insignificant bride price are the only expenses incurred in marrying a divorcée. A major difference between Malay and Thai attitudes toward marriage concerns remarriage after one has reached middle age, especially if one already has children. Where Malays find it desirable to remarry as long as one can still attract a spouse, Thais express a reluctance to take another spouse when one's children are already grown. As I indicated earlier, older, widowed Thais are more readily accepted into the homes of their married children or can seek refuge in the temple. Furthermore, such people are often preoccupied with meritorious activities in preparation for their passage from this to their next reincarnation. Marriage could interfere with their devotion to their religious duties and embarrass them in front of their offspring. Finally, there are among the Malays a few itinerant men who collect a great many wives in their lives. One Melayu Villager had been married seventeen times, and quite a few others more than eight times. Thais would describe such people as "those who make a sport of getting married, just like gamblers." In fact, however, few Malays take marriage that lightly. Divorcées with children are especially disadvantaged. Albeit their children may be cared for by in-laws, a man's cash income is badly needed to help meet expenses. These unattached women, constantly on the lookout for a new husband, constitute a large portion of the clients of mas sanee. An equally sizeable group are married women with families who fear that their husbands will divorce them and marry a younger and more attractive woman. Even if the husband plans to take the younger woman as a second wife (he is permitted four by Islamic law), the first wife will act out of jealousy, or fear for her family's financial security. According to several of the mjs whom I interviewed, about two out of

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three of their clients are women with these types of problems. Judging from cases reported during a six-month period while I was in touch with two prosperous rriM sanee, about 85 percent of all clients are Malays, 10 percent Chinese, and 5 percent Indian. Thais, ironically, almost never consult love magicians of their own ethnic group, at least not those in Siam Village.20 Most of the Chinese and Indians who seek the services of the m33 sanee are also women, usually from urban areas. Although men from these two groups are less likely to take additional wives, some spend a large fraction of their time and income gallivanting around the bars and nightclubs of Kota Bharu, while their wives look after their children at home. The wives then fetch charms to direct their husbands' attention back to them and cause the wandering spouses to lose interest in their other female acquaintances. I was not able to obtain any figures on the divorce rate among urban Chinese, but a survey of one rural Chinese setdement with a Thai temple turned up a divorce rate of 19.3 percent among the heads of households and their spouses (that is, those who had been divorced at least once). This, I believe, is a comparatively high percentage for Chinese and may point to the influence of surrounding Malay culture upon rural Chinese attitudes concerning marriage and divorce. Other ethnographers have noted the inclination of Malay villagers to place greater faith in distant magicians (see, for example, Swift, 1965: 164). In confidential matters of the type alluded to earlier, where clients are bent upon manipulating their interpersonal environment, geographical as well as social distance are important factors in the choice of a practitioner. A high percentage of Siam Village m » sanee clientele come from distant areas. In Siam Village they need not risk being recognized by friends and neighbors. Nor will word of their errands ever pass beyond the borders of the Thai village. Even neighboring outgroup villagers respect the Thais' reputation for keeping their clients' affairs confidential.21 Thai practitioners are therefore preferred on the grounds that they provide greater security against leakage of personal secrets. They are much more suited to play the role of impersonal consultants, because there is very little likelihood that they and their clients will ever have to interact as occupants of more personalized roles. In the case of female clients, there is an additional element of security insofar as Thai specialists are almost always responsible family heads who no longer flirt with younger women. Middle-aged Malay men are still expected to take an active interest in young women; it is therefore harder for women to be at ease in their presence. The competition between an older and a younger man for the hand of a young girl is a popular theme in Malay literature and films. On occasion I would broach the subject of love charms during conver-

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sations with Melayu Villagers. Most reacted in a reticent manner, reminding me that this was not a matter to be bandied about in public. All acknowledged that this kind of magic was the exclusive domain of their Thai neighbors and recommended certain practitioners whom I might interview. In private, they responded that they did not hold love charms to be morally wrong, but implied that all too often an element of mischief was involved when "hate medicine" was requested. In any case, they suspected the worst. Yet, most conceded that if they had to recommend such a practitioner to a friend, they would suggest a Thai, for the Thais were the most professional. I should add here that Siam Villagers seldom discussed the activities of m-3-3, except in directing visitors to their houses.22 The practitioners, themselves, did not generally mention their clients' affairs to many other Thai villagers. When a client entered the house of a mas, neighbors and friends quietly withdrew until the consultation was over. During my first economic survey of the village, respondents never referred to their activities as /was when asked about occupations and income. Even two men whose principal incomes were derived from consultations, described themselves as retired rice farmers. Others readily played down their magician roles. The first real indication I received that magic was a substantial source of income for some villagers was when a normally indigent, slightly senile man, who lived alone and took his meals at the temple, walked into the village one day with a heifer which he had just purchased for M$120. Inquiring around, I learned that he had bought the animal with money he had received working as a ma sanee. It soon became apparent to me that people refrained from discussing this lucrative business because there was inevitable rivalry between practitioners. To avert discord and envy, no one discussed profits. Nor did people dare compare the talents of the different magicians. Curiously, the Malay pedicab drivers, who delivered the clients to the magician's door, were more likely to know how much the visitor had paid for the charms than any of the Thai neighbors. When I asked about competition between m a , most Siam Villagers denied that any existed, though they quickly offered stories about feuding magicians in other Thai villages. Successful practitioners are those who have earned a reputation for themselves outside the village, and who can count on a steady influx of new clients being referred to them by former clients or associates outside. Some m-n sanee have, indeed, mustered considerable advertising support among distant friends whom they have met while entertaining or hunting as nagleerj. Then, too, a taxi or pedicab driver is sure to receive a commission for steering his passenger to the right house. These drivers, as we shall see later, play a prominent communications role in the Siam Village economy. Not only drivers, but Malay neighbors as well may benefit

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from recommending friends or strangers to particular Thai practitioners. A direct commission is not always forthcoming, but sooner or later such favors are returned. For neighboring Malays, a stranger passing through in search of a magician may be a financial boon, but for Siam Villagers, such an inquirer may create a problematic situation in which conflicting loyalties to practicing neighbors engender considerable confusion. In no other context, except perhaps the exchange of free food, are village social alignments and loyalties more evident. Visiting potential clients most often accost members of Thai households on the village's periphery when they want to know where they can find a particular kind of practitioner. If these local people have close relatives or intimate friends who provide the services in question, they will usually guide the inquirer to the homes of these more familiar practitioners. Such referrals are part of a complicated system of informal reciprocity including cooperative harvesting and the exchange of different foods. But many villagers prefer not to favor any particular neighbor and, instead, will simply refer the stranger to the temple. Except for very special cases, the abbot will not consent to produce love charms,23 and never will he participate in any harmful sorcery. Certain practitioners are " k n o w n " to be more competent than others, and it is these who are most frequently recommended by the temple staff, unless some less respected competitor happens to be nearby at the moment. The monks expressed to me their intentions to be as fair as possible in distributing clientele among competing practitioners. The popularity of some magicians depends as much on their personalities as it does on the perceived efficacity of their charms. Not only do they cultivate outside friendships which are instrumental in attracting new clients, but they also display basic social skills during their consultations. A client feels much more relaxed and satisfied if his consultant is a capable conversationalist, for almost never does the discussion focus immediately on the business at hand. The purpose of the errand emerges only gradually from a rather circuitous chat, during which the magician establishes rapport with his client. The image of a love-charm magician is especially enhanced if his home displays signs of domestic harmony. The practitioner's wife and children frequently serve as assistants, providing refreshments, fetching ingredients for the preparation of charms, and helping to make female clients feel more at home. The preparation of love charms is quite uncomplicated and may last only a few minutes. The msa invokes the spirit of his teacher to aid in the transformation of some common substance into flaa sanee (Kel. Malay: ubaq payaseh) or "charm medicine." The ceremony is usually performed in a corner of the same room where the client is sitting, to permit the caller to witness or overhear the procedure from a distance. I never

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observed a client who openly displayed much interest in the Thai-Pali incantations or accompanying ritual. Each practitioner has his own collection of sacred paraphernalia, including such items as Buddha amulets, incense burners, special oil or water, rice grains, candles, and so on, and his own techniques." The resulting charmed substances include oil, powder, or water to be rubbed on the body to make one more attractive, or some kind of food, usually rice, to be fed to the person whose emotions must undergo change. I also observed rituals in which symbols from the ancient Khmer (kh^m) script were scratched on a roof tile or written on a folded sheet of paper which would be placed near the victims. More important for the purposes of this study are the uses for which charm medicine is intended. Following the Siam Villagers' own classificatory system, I shall briefly mention the three most common varieties of charm medicine and give examples of how they are employed by clients. By far the most common requests are those for "love medicine" (fiaa rag). This variety of charm, as the name implies, will render a third party more amorous or sympathetic toward the one whom it is meant to benefit. Romance is not always the motive for seeking love medicine. Young men sometimes purchase it before interviews with prospective employers or parents-in-law. Any subordinate may use it to win the sympathy of a superior. Occasionally clients expect such medicine to perform impossible feats. One maa sanee could not guarantee his eighty-year-old Malay client that the medicine would win the heart of a twenty-year-old girl whom he desired as a second wife. A second common variety of charm medicine is "forgetting medicine" fflaa lyym). This type is not intended to cause anyone any harm but only to sever some unproductive emotional attachment. Clients who request forgetting medicine usually desire to release themselves or a loved one from some harmful obsession with a love object. Frequently it is employed to counteract what they believe to be another love magician's charm. In one case I recorded, a wealthy Kota Bharu official and his wife purchased charmed rice which they were going to feed their son, who was a university student in Penang. His studies had suffered of late due to a romantic involvement with a young girl of whom they did not approve. It was hoped that he would simply lose interest in her after consuming the rice. "Hate medicine" (Ma raarj or fiaa kliad) is a far more serious matter. Not surprisingly, I was never permitted to witness a consultation in which this third variety of charm medicine was acquired. The only times I was even notified that such medicine had been sought were those instances in which practitioners refused (or said they refused) to honor their clients' requests. To prepare this injurious kind of charm, a m must feel some sympathy for his client's vengeful attitude. Where the

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client is in the wrong, few magicians will accept such an assignment, unless they are convinced that their product will really have no effect. Hate medicine is sometimes used in the same way as forgetting medicine, except that more malice is intended with the former. 25 Jealousy and envy are the most common motivating factors in the purchase of hate medicine. Examples of contexts for the application of hate medicine are: to break up a marriage; to avenge a crime like a theft by causing the perpetrator to be hated by his acquaintances; to destroy a competitor's business by alienating his customers. I was once informed at a temple fair that competing shadow puppet troupes had buried hate medicine near each other's platforms. Thus far, I have not mentioned the fees collected by magicians for their services. It is widely known that the most expensive magic is hate magic. For this sin-laden service, a practitioner demands a graduated fee depending on the moral risk involved. The usual rate is about M$20; never would a m a produce such magic gratis. One practitioner who specialized in love medicine accepted assignments only from those visitors who were willing to pay handsomely for his services. He was a relatively prosperous landowner, however, and could afford to be more selective. His attitude was that giving too freely of his services would tarnish the reputation of his product. But the remaining producers of love medicine were content to accept whatever "donation" their clients cared to leave at the close of a consultation. Oddly enough, a local Malay term for fees thus paid is saddksh, the usual word for "alms." The connotation of charity in these payments may have arisen from the perception of local Thais as relatively impoverished people. Certainly the frugality with which Thai living quarters are furnished and the modest dress of the wdd (usually only a sarong) might encourage greater generosity from a wellto-do stranger. On the other hand, donations tend to decrease when the client is a previous acquaintance. The typical payment, then, amounted to from M$2 to 15. Wealthy visitors from Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, and even Indonesia were known to have contributed as much as M$70 for a single consultation. During my stay in Kelantan, a minor wife of a certain west coast sultan appeared with her limousine and retinue to fetch some love medicine from one of Siam Village's best known musanee. She had seen the latter performing the manooraa invocation on television and had traveled all the way to Kelantan to request his assistance in facilitating a reconciliation with her husband. Her donation amounted to M$30 and a great many fancy imported cigars. A few local /waa sanee are known to have traveled to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur where they have been able to establish profitable practices with the assistance of Chinese sponsors. Taag Baj Thai love magicians

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have also been known to practice in Malaysia where they can earn a better living. It was difficult to estimate the total income derived from magical practices. One m j j sanee, who spent a great deal of his time instructing me about his occupation, received from M$50 to M$150 per month pursuing his practice.26 Others who agreed to prepare hate medicine surely earned more, while less well-known individuals were satisfied with less. One way that practitioners sometimes supplemented their fees was to sell wholesale lots of charmed substances to Malay magicians, who would later distribute small quantities "retail" to their clients in distant villages. Some maa frowned on such arrangements, however, because the middlemen were suspected of receiving too great a share of the profits, and there was a powerful temptation among nonmagicians to foist bogus charms on their customers. Maa sanee clients were also known to have acquired charms on credit. Some msa dispensed their medicine in return for favors rendered by friendly outsiders. Such was the case when Malays provided Siam Villagers with free tabooed foods like boar, for which Muslims were forbidden to request payment. Then, too, love medicine was now and then offered free to very poor callers. Clearly, the income which the magic specialists of Siam Village receive is a badly needed supplement to the meager returns from their agricultural labors. Should Thai charms prove ineffective, there is no evidence that any animosity will result. The disappointed client is apt to conclude that this particular medicine was just not appropriate for his problem. Seldom does ineffectiveness lead to skepticism. Even the Thai m j j , themselves, allow for the possibility that they may be naturally endowed with the power to help people whose duatj, or "destiny," coincides with their wishes. Yet, they realize that they, themselves, really have little control over their powers. As one m n phrased it, "If I could consistently produce efficacious goods, I'd be living in a three-storey townhouse." There are cases—as when an elderly man attempts to charm a young girl—in which they perceive their charms as having absolutely no effect. In most instances, the practitioner will emphasize to his client that his charms are not khnij karantii, or "guaranteed goods." Consequently, recipients of abortive charms usually remain on friendly terms with the even so far as to recommend his services to others. THE BOAR HUNTERS

In chapter 1,1 presented a brief account of the settlement of Siam Village in conjunction with migrations of small groups of Thai boar hunters in search of new game. For many years following the founding of the village, the Thai nagleerj were able to supplement their agricultural diet with the flesh of wild animals from the nearby forests. But as the popula-

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tion of the Kelantanese delta grew and the forested areas yielded to the axes and plows of new cultivators, hunting expeditions necessarily extended over larger and larger geographical areas. Today, except for regions in the Kelantanese interior, most hunting is confined to patches of wooded hills interspersed among the paddy fields of the delta or located along the periphery of the lowland plains to the south and west. Among less affluent Malays most of the hunters are to be found today in settlements at the foot of the heavily forested hills where game is still relatively plentiful. Farming the land directly below the elevated forests, these villagers enjoy the almost year-round supply of fresh water from the streams; at the same time, their crops continue to fall victim to the incursions of undesirable wild animals, like boars and tapirs, which descend the slopes to feed on the farmers' grain and garden crops. 27 Just as the Melayu Villagers of long ago welcomed the assistance of the Thais in controlling the numbers of such forest vermin, these modern-day submontane villagers encourage the cooperation of distant Thai villagers in warding off the encroachment of boars onto their lands. Siam Village is among several Thai settlements which continue to maintain symbiotic relations with such rural Malay hunters. In this section I shall examine the nature of these interethnic ties placing special emphasis on subtle underlying patterns of reciprocity between the two groups. According to older villagers, up to about the time of the Second World War, the nocturnal incursions of wild boars were so frequent that hunting parties were sometimes recruited under local government supervision to drive the animals out of peripheral forest areas into man-made traps. Large numbers of Malays would surround groups of boars, light arcs of fire, and proceed to march toward the fire, causing the wild pigs to retreat until they fell into pits. Thais were then called in to dispose of the trapped animals as they pleased. Other kinds of trapping were also commonly resorted to by smaller parties of hunters. Seldom were rifles available in those days, so that it was the custom to employ sharp sticks or spears when moving in for the kill. As long as the boars were abundant and the use of traps and spears produced adequate rewards, Thais could continue to hunt their favorite food without Malay assistance. In fact, such independent activities were still far less common than joint expeditions with Malay friends. But, in time, the diminishing quantities of boars made the use of more efficient weapons necessary. Nowadays, Thai boar hunters depend almost exclusively on the use of Malay rifles when undertaking a hunting trip. Siam Villagers reported that Malay hunters prefer the company of Thais when their intention is to hunt only boars. 2 ' The Thais can be counted upon to remove the carcasses which might otherwise have to be buried if shot too close to a Malay compound. The Malay hunters desire

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to have as little contact as possible with the highly taboo blood of the wild pigs. In recent years a new custom has arisen whereby Malay hunters or rifle owners request a small sum of money to defray the cost of the ammunition used in shooting the boars. This piteh paluru, 01 "bullet money," is becoming a kind of token payment for any wild animals turned over to the Thais. Even when Malays go hunting for fowl or deer, and stumble on some taboo animal, they will shoot it and see to it that it is fetched by Thais. Siam Villagers related incidents in which Malay friends walked long distances to inform them of some available carnage to be picked up. Living in Siam Village in 1974 were seventeen men who identified themselves as active boar hunters. Two others, both older men, had retired to devote more time to meritorious activities. Included among the seventeen men were several whose only social contacts with outside Malays took place in the hunting context. A typical hunting party consisted of from two to more than ten men, a fraction of whom would be Thais. Occasionally Chinese were also included, but unlike the Malays, they received equal portions of the boar meat. Thus, Siam Villagers naturally preferred the Malays as hunting companions. During my stay there, an average of about two parties set out every week, with slightly greater numbers active during the floods which forced the wild pigs out into the open. One out of three excursions proved abortive, but during any single attempt, as many as seven or eight boars might be taken. Alliances between Malay and Thai hunters are hereditary to the extent that two or more generations of men from the same families traditionally hunt together. Seldom do more than two unrelated Thai men regularly hunt with the same Malay colleagues in the same region; rather, each Thai household will establish its own "territories" at the foot of distant wooded hills. It is customary for a Malay associate to send word when his fields or gardens are being raided at night by boars. Upon arriving at the houses of their Malay comrades, the Thais will prepare to position themselves nearby for the night and await the approach of the animals. Only during the day or if the moon is particularly bright will they venture into the forest. To my knowledge, no Kelantanese Thais have been granted licenses to buy rifles." The few who have applied have had their requests swallowed up in bureaucratic red tape. It is a common belief among them that a great deal of political influence must be required to expedite such applications. 30 Fortunately, each Thai hunter can count on at least one Malay or Chinese associate to provide the necessary rifle for an expedition. Usually the owner of the gun is a member of the community whose crops are being damaged by the wild pigs. When this is not the case, rifles may be borrowed from friends elsewhere, or the outside rifle owners, themselves, may go along for the hunt. Mention should also

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be made of the Thais' pride in their own hunting dogs, which they claim to be superior to Malay ones in tracking down boars and tapirs. The overall mechanics of the hunt, then, constitute a closely meshed pattern of cooperation between members of the Malay and Thai ethnic categories. Many of the rewards that both groups derive from these joint hunting parties are simply social in nature. The Thais frequently use the expression "len paa, " or "play around in the jungle," to describe this pleasant pastime. Some believe such activity to be physically invigorating, and recommend it as a cure for such ailments as colds and fever. Malay hunters sometimes jokingly refer to their fascination with hunting as a kind of spirit possession: they are said to be possessed by atu utc," or the spirits of the forest. In any case, hunting provides an excellent opportunity for similar personality types among the two groups to participate in a constructive, mutually rewarding pastime. Perhaps the most unusual aspect of this cooperative arrangement is the division of labor based on the observance of both groups' taboos. Strictly speaking, pious Buddhists should not kill boars, and pious Muslims should not handle the carcasses. Some Thais, who will not consent to kill animals themselves, will nevertheless gladly fetch a dead boar when summoned by Malay friends. Demerit is only attached to active participation in the hunt. Malays, on the other hand, are spared the undesirable task of getting rid of the carcasses and risking contamination." Much more significant, however, are the ways in which Malay hunters are able to profit economically from the provision of tabooed meat to Thais without actually violating any religious prohibitions on the sale of such forbidden goods. As suggested earlier, Malay hunters do request a reimbursement of a few dollars for the cost of the ammunition used in killing boars, but Islamic law prohibits the sale of so abominable a commodity as pork for profit. 33 For some time I was puzzled by what appeared to be a very unbalanced reciprocity. Why had Malays gone out of their way for years to send for Thai villagers whenever a tabooed animal had been killed far away from the Malay settlements? Three decades earlier, it was not yet customary to collect "bullet money" in return for the use of Malay rifles during the hunt. Why, then, were Thais so often invited to join Malay hunters and partake of whatever game was shot even though the former could contribute no weapons of their own? As I explained above, interethnic hunting parties are pleasant social experiences which permit considerable lighthearted interaction between members of the two ethnic categories. Out of such partnerships, I discovered, grow long-term cooperative relations in which Thais are given the opportunity to reciprocate for the kindness of their Malay colleagues. Malay hunters are

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encouraged to visit the distant Thai villages where they receive special hospitality and are almost always presented with an ample supply of tobacco upon departure. Some Thais are also known to purchase small quantities of Malay-slaughtered beef to be presented as gifts during informal visits to the homes of Malay hunting associates. Finally, it is not uncommon for Thais to volunteer their services now and then in harvesting their friends' rice. In these ways Thais repay their Malay comrades without allowing it to appear that any formal exchange is being carried on. In return for otherwise useless tabooed meats, Malays receive valuable goods and services as occasional gifts from grateful Thais. In recent years the increasing need for cash income has begun to disrupt the traditional boar exchange pattern. A few Malay hunters have abandoned their strict adherence to Islamic law by clandestinely disposing of boar meat in lucrative cash transactions with urban Chinese. Although I never witnessed such a sale, I was informed by Chinese in Kota Bharu that these transactions were becoming commonplace. The Thais, too, are aware of the diminishing calls they are receiving to fetch dead boars. In a few cases, the "bullet money" price has also been raised to as much as ten Malaysian dollars—much more than the cost of ammunition, but still only a tiny fraction of the retail price of pork. Some of the illicit boar meat has actually appeared for sale at the Chinese pork market in Kota Bharu. Local domestic pork merchants have apparently protested the entry of this unlicensed meat into the market and have threatened to expose its sources. Siam Villagers suspect that these influential merchants have lobbied against the legalization of the commercial sale of boar meat. In other parts of Malaysia, like Trengganu and Pahang, there are Chinese who practically make a living hunting boar and exporting the meat to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.34 The importance of boar and other wild animal meats as major sources of protein in the Siam Village diet can scarcely be overemphasized. In all but the wealthiest rural Kelantanese villages, any kind of meat is a luxury item to be consumed only on very special ritual occasions (see, for example, Rosemary Firth, 1966:94). The once abundant supply of freshwater fish has seriously dwindled. Forest animals, such as various species of deer and birds, which may be eaten by Muslims if properly slaughtered, have, in many cases, been hunted to near extinction on the Kelantan Plain. Siam Villagers do raise domestic pigs, but mostly for sale to Chinese merchants. Chickens are usually collected by Malay middlemen for resale in market centers. Yet, despite the very limited supply of meat from these traditional sources, Siam Villagers are able to enjoy a rather steady diet of the flesh from animals whose consumption violates Malay religious customs. Such haram, or "forbidden," meats may be classified into two categories for our convenience. The first category includes the

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flesh of all animals which, according to the local interpretation of Islamic law, are naturally unclean. These may be either expressly proscribed in the scriptures, as are members of the pig family like the boar, or they may lack certain characteristics, such as cloven hooves or rumination, which would qualify them as edible. To the latter class belongs the tapir. 35 Included under naturally haram varieties are also a number of wild creatures which local Malays considered inedible long before the advent of Islam in the area. The second category of unclean animals are members of normally permissible species but are individuals which have died before they could be properly slaughtered in the ritual fashion prescribed by Islamic law." These mampus, or "polluted dead," animals are technically just as haram as pigs if used for food, but they may be handled without as much fear of contamination. Whereas it is doubtful that pork-eating taboos are often broken by Malays, poor villagers are a good deal less devout in their abstinence from partaking of the flesh of mampus animals.37 Included among mampus animals are those which have died in an accident, those which have died immediately after being shot by hunters, and those which have succumbed to a fatal disease. Next to boar meat, the most common source of wild animal meat for Siam Villagers is that of tapirs, which are occasionally shot in areas adjacent to forests. Like boars, tapirs cause considerable damage to villagers' crops; they especially enjoy nibbling on tender rubber seedlings. Although the Malaysian government has declared tapirs a protected species, Malay villagers do not hesitate to shoot those which become a nuisance. As in the case of boar hunting, Thais are often called in to help pursue a renegade animal and/or remove the carcass afterward. These larger animals, sometimes weighing as much as six hundred pounds, are only seldom encountered, but the meat from one animal can be used to feed all of Siam Village's inhabitants for several days. During one twelve-month period in 1973-1974, Siam Villagers received all or part of four tapirs which were killed in the surrounding area. Other, smaller, haram animals were often caught by Malay friends and presented to Thais. They included pangolins, tortoises, civet cats, squirrels, fruit bats, and frogs. No monetary payment was generally requested for these although Siam Villagers showed their gratitude in other ways. 3 ' For the most part, mampus animals are delivered to Thais in a similar fashion. In cases where large domestic animals like cattle or goats are involved in accidents, Thais are informed by messenger, usually a pedicab driver. The messenger, himself, is usually given a small sum of money or tobacco for his trouble. This money is considered "clean" since the messenger is not directly making any profit from the sale of haram goods. If a Malay delivers the mampus animal himself, he is given a

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token "carfare" payment, which usually exceeds the actual cost of transporting the animal. Animals which have been shot dead before they could be ritually slaughtered—for example, deer or birds—are sometimes handed over only after "bullet money" has been paid. Siam Villagers report that they receive an average of three or four head of mampus cattle yearly. These may come from communities as far as ten miles away. I was present on three occasions when villagers were summoned to clear away dead water buffalos and cows. One buffalo had broken its neck when it had fallen into an irrigation ditch; another had died in a collision with a truck; and one cow had been accidentally shot by hunters. In previous years Thais had collected the mampus victims of all sorts of freak accidents. For instance, three Malay water buffalos were struck by lightning at one distant village. Aside from the cattle, I witnessed the fetching of a large goat which had been hit by a car on a road near Kota Bharu. These larger animals were normally divided among many villagers, but there were also frequent deliveries of mampus ducks and chickens to individual Thai households. Anyone who has ridden in a Malaysian taxi can readily understand how common it is for domestic fowl to be killed on the highways. When a particular Siam Villager is notified that there is a haram animal to be collected, he will recruit several close relatives and/or friends and head for the reported location. Should the animal belong to a nearby Malay, most of the adult male Siam Villagers will show up to claim their shares and join in the butchering. If the animal is small enough, it will be transported whole to the Thai village for butchering. But animals exceeding about a hundred pounds are usually carved up where they are found. The meat is then taken back to the village in covered baskets or large closed biscuit tins. If the animal has died of unknown causes or been killed in an accident, villagers will douse it with holy water (nammon) before butchering it. The water for this ritual purification is requested beforehand from the Siam Village abbot or some other monk and is employed to counteract any harmful effects from possible malevolent spirits. Several Siam Villagers remarked that they felt more comfortable eating animals that had already died, because there could be no sin attached to such behavior. Few Thais are reluctant to carve up a dead animal whereas only a handful of Siam Villagers are willing to slaughter live domestic pigs, and none will slaughter a live cow or buffalo. Formerly, when villagers still used cattle for ritual food, they bought Malay-slaughtered, Malay-owned beef. The transport of boar meat is a delicate matter. Groups of hunters or butchers normally travel by public taxi or chartered car. The boar carcass is thoroughly wrapped in a gunny sack and placed in the trunk of the vehicle if its owner is a nonneighboring Chinese. A small carcass may be

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PLATE 2 .

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Well-to-do Chinese hunter delivering wild boar carcasses to the Thai temple, where they were eaten during the 1974 thasd kathin festival.

wrapped and tied to the back of a motorcycle or bicycle. But the majority of public vehicles are Malay-owned, and their drivers will have little to do with the transporting haram boar meat. Even Chinese drivers fear a scandal in which their automobiles will be stigmatized as having been contaminated by boar's blood. The money earned in this way might also be deemed "kam babi," or defiled through its association with pigs. Thus, Thais must resort to various undercover strategies to disguise their activities. Chunks of boar meat packed in biscuit tins are, perhaps, the most efficient method of transportation for avoiding confrontations. Often, however, a local Chinese private car is hired at night to bring a carcass home. I was quite surprised to discover how little neighboring Malays knew about Siam Village boar-hunting activities. Few were even suspicious that so much meat was being brought in so frequently. By maintaining so low a profile in their own neighborhood, Siam Villagers avoid offending their Malay neighbors. Not only the transporting, but also the preparation of haram meat is performed most discreetly. Boars are first roasted whole on a spit for a few minutes in order to burn off the coarse brown hair and precook the skin. The parts of the village which are chosen for this operation are

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always well-concealed from the eyes, ears, and noses of Malays who are passing along the road. Only a few Malay youngsters who " d o not know any better" will now and then wait around to observe the roasting." Then the meat is cut up into small chunks and boiled in a salty solution or barbecued Chinese-style, usually in the temple kitchen. Melayu Village neighbors need never see a boar; nor do boars constitute a topic of local interethnic conversation. Unlike the Thais' distant Malay hunting companions, neighboring Malay villagers do not ask about how pork tastes or why Thais eat it.40 On occasion a Melayu Villager has been known to express the opinion that mampus animal flesh must taste rotten; however, none but ill-bred children would comment about pork in front of Thais. By the same token, I found very few Siam Villagers who could describe in detail how Malays ritually slaughter their animals. Even fewer had ever dared to observe Melayu Villagers performing the ritual. Most of those who had seen it were hunters who had watched Malay hunters slaughter wounded game. Here again we have an instance of interethnic behavioral and verbal taboos being adhered to in local contexts and relaxed among more widely separated representatives of the Thai and Malay ethnic categories. Thus far I have hardly mentioned the system for distributing haram meats among the Siam Villagers. It would seem that the village's social structure is integrated so as to afford every village household special privileges in the sharing of at least one Thai boar hunter's take. Some more influential households may maintain informal reciprocal relations with several hunters. In general, the more hunters one has as close friends or relatives, the more often one will receive a share of the kill. When an animal is received for free, it is also distributed among fellow villagers for free; when bullet money is requested, recipients of the meat are asked to contribute a minor sum to help cover the cost, usually about M$.50 per pound. No attempt is ever made by the hunters to extract a profit from these sales. Animals weighing less than a hundred pounds or so are too small for the whole village to share. These are divided among the participating hunters or collectors, who individually distribute their shares to kinsmen and friends. In cases where a portion still remains from a hunter's share, he will commonly give or sell it to the first inquirers. Restraint is always exercised in taking one's share. Most households are expected to take a fixed portion not exceeding a pound or two. Communication is an important factor here. Those families who are socially more isolated often miss out on their chance to claim a share only because they have not been informed. With the arrival of large animals, like tapir or mampus cattle, more care is taken to notify all villagers. Boar meat also serves as a common article of social exchange between

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8l

different Thai and Thai-Chinese villages. Visitors from other villages may bring or be given small quantities of boar meat as gifts for kinsmen and friends. If one or more boars should be taken just prior to a temple fair, that meat will usually be preserved and then served to all participants at the fair. It is also a custom before a fair to pass the word to all Chinese and Thai boar-hunting parishioners that donations of boar meat would be greatly appreciated. Such donations are highly meritorious. Wealthy Chinese admirers of the Siam Village abbot are especially cooperative on such occasions. At Siam Village's 1974 post-Lenten t h u d kathin festival, a total of seven boars were contributed by parishioners from four different areas. Five of the boars were shot by urban Chinese hunters. Needless to say, there was plenty of meat to eat in the village for several days after the fair. Boars have become Siam Villagers' principal ritual food for feasts. Only when it has become evident that no boars are to be contributed, will the sponsor of a Siam Village temple fair have a domestic pig slaughtered. Otherwise the latter are raised exclusively for sale to Chinese merchants. Significantly, no cattle have been eaten as ritual food in Siam Village for more than a decade. Apparently, cattle are slaughtered only if arrangements are being made to entertain Malay guests as well. In most areas of Thailand, on the other hand, cattle still constitute an important ritual food source (see, for example, Tambiah, 1973:142). RELIGIOUS SPECIALISTS

The religion of Kelantan's Chinese population might be described as a loose fusion of three sets of beliefs: ancestor worship, Taoism, and Buddhism. Besides maintaining an ancestral altar at home, the average family will worship at one or more local temples incorporating elements of Taoism and Buddhism. Not only are the Chinese tolerant of sects they do not belong to, they are accustomed to supporting alternative, even contradictory cults in their pragmatic efforts to further their personal and familial fortunes. Purcell (1948:120) notes that those original Chinese deities and cults which have prospered are those which have rendered the best returns to their worshippers. The same pattern can be discerned in their patronage of local spirit mediums and geomancers. As Nash (1974a:253) implies, veneration of chosen gods or even the Buddha is often secondary to the active quest for all available contacts with supernatural forces which might control their destinies. Especially among the rural Chinese, whose ancestry includes several generations of Malayan residents, there remain relatively few social or cultural ties with ancestral villages back in China (see Middlebrook, 1933:154). In recent times these country people have often achieved greater literacy in Malay than in Chinese, and have begun to lose touch

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with their own literary religious traditions.41 It is essential that we distinguish between the rural Chinese (ciin bog in local Thai) and the urban Chinese (ciin myarj). The former have been acculturated in many ways to the surrounding Malay and Thai communities. Most of their dress, food, language, dwellings, and mannerisms are practically identical with surrounding Malay variations, while their religion, in many cases, has been overwhelmingly influenced by the highly organized Thai Theravada Buddhist institutions scattered throughout the region. The urban Chinese, on the other hand, are apt to be first-, second-, or thirdgeneration newcomers educated in Chinese schools, dressed in Chineseor Western-style clothes, living in Chinese-style shop houses, speaking more cosmopolitan varieties of the Chinese dialects, and eating more traditional Chinese cuisine. We shall see that the urban Chinese also patronize local Thai temples, but for reasons other than simple worship as parishioners. Some urban Chinese are recent arrivals in the city, not from abroad, but from rural areas where they sought their fortune for several years as vegetable gardeners, rubber smallholders and shopkeepers in Malay villages. Freedman (1960:63) has described how the pre-World War II depression and the Japanese occupation precipitated a large-scale movement of unassimilated Chinese into the Malayan countryside. For a time most were able to make an adequate living serving as middlemen for farm products and selling retail to Malay neighbors. During this period they were obliged to learn the ways of their Malay clientele, and, in many cases, came in contact with Thai villagers and their religion. If the market junction serving Siam Village can be taken as a typical case, we may assume that the economic situation of the local Chinese merchants began to deteriorate seriously some time after the war. At that time, the government began underwriting the construction of passable secondary roads, and in so doing, opened up many Malay villages to motorized vehicle traffic. Whereas before, isolated villagers would walk or cycle to do much of their shopping at the Chinese junction shops, the new roads made it possible for urban wholesalers to deliver their goods directly to the interior villages. Concurrently, programs were created to encourage Malay villagers to establish their own shops, which could then be supplied directly by wholesalers' vans. Before long, the once-bustling junction market ceased to be a profitable enterprise. All but one of the erstwhile urban Chinese merchants moved with their families to Kota Bharu or other, lesser commercial centers, where some have entered the wholesale trade. In recent years there has also been a steady influx of rural Chinese and Thai women into the towns. There, as the wives of well-to-do Chinese merchants, these women serve as social and cultural links between the villagers and the townsfolk. Financially successful rural Chinese farmers

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have also been turning to the urban Chinese schools for the education of their children. Some of these wealthy rural farmers have even chosen to retire in town. The overall picture, then, is one of re-sinification of partially "Malay-ized" rural Chinese in contact with urban Chinese spouses and neighbors. However, many of those rural Chinese and Thai-Chinese who have migrated to the towns have also taken with them an identification with rural Thai religious institutions. As the title of this section indicates, Kelantan's Thais have assumed the role of religious specialists among both rural and urban Chinese. One need only visit rural Chinese villages like Thanooi] or Kulim (Wakaf Bharu) to discover the extent to which the Theravada Buddhist monastic institutions of the Thais have provided a highly structured, literate religious tradition for rural Chinese. Thanooi], a rather large village with only a few Thai women who have married in, supports an elaborate Thai temple compound hosting seven monks and seven temple boys from scattered Thai villages in the area. Kulim's inhabitants are racially and culturally Thai-Chinese, owing to the generations of intermarriage between Chinese immigrant men and local Thai women, but every household retains its clan name and ancestral altar. It, too, supports an allThai temple staffed with several outside monks and temple boys. Within the Kulim compound, as in other Kelantanese Thai temples, can be found carved images of Taoist deities and Chinese tombstones. Liberalminded local Thais have always been willing to accommodate Chinese syncretistic iconography and practices in return for Chinese patronage. Lest we interpret this phenomenon to be purely local in nature, it should be noted that there are four Thai temples in Kuala Lumpur organized along the same interethnic lines. Siam Villagers report that approximately two out of three people who make merit at their temple are Chinese. Again, a distinction must be made between two types of Chinese patrons: (1) the mostly rural, partially Thai-speaking, regular parishioners; and (2) the usually more well-todo, urban patrons who make large donations in return for occasional magical services rendered by the renowned abbot. The rural Chinese parishioners attend most of the major and minor temple ceremonies of the annual Buddhist calendar and generally contribute rice and side dishes on these occasions, just as do all the households of Siam Village. Their participation is expected in the minor communal rituals which symbolize parish cooperation. Whenever possible, they converge on the temple from neighboring settlements to lend a hand in organizing a temple fair and they regularly join in such meritorious activities as the ritual bathing of the monks (rod nam) and presenting food to the monks (liarj phra">). Included in this group are a few Thai-Chinese families who have settled in town. The majority of the patrons of Siam Village's temple, however, are

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Urban Chinese in consultation with the Siam Village abbot.

relative newcomers. They are what the Thais call "din tiin 9iad ?iad," or those recent Chinese immigrants living in the cities who are noted for their tiny feet. 42 Their enthusiastic support of the temple can be attributed to two factors. First, their principal concern lies in obtaining the services of the most respected diviners and curers. For over forty years the Siam Village abbot has been one of the legendary figures in these matters of the supernatural. Even in his old age, he is visited by carloads of Chinese who pull into the village every week to pay him their respects. Many choose to make merit by presenting their contributions directly to him. Ostensibly, his intercession is believed to enhance the effectiveness of their virtuous deeds. Whenever possible, all material donations to the temple are formally blessed and accepted by the abbot himself. 43 Siam Villagers do not hesitate to remark that these wealthy visitors usually t-irjkaan, or "want something" in return for their patronage. Unlike their rural cousins, they are looked upon as outsiders to be accommodated, but not to be befriended. When such townsfolk sponsor ceremonies at the temple, there is little interaction between the modestly clad villagers, who remain on the periphery, and the well-fed, imposing patrons, who occupy the central space facing the presiding monks. 44 The second factor accounting for the recent growth in urban Chinese patronage is the improved communications between urban Chinese and

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rural Thais. Prior to World War II few town Chinese came to Siam Village, partly because of the inaccessibility of the location by automobile. But equally obstructive in those days was the inability of recently immigrated Chinese to speak the local Malay dialect. Only after a lengthy residence in the countryside did many immigrants acquire enough fluency in Kelantanese Malay to use it as a lingua franca with local Thais. To this day, local Malay is still commonly used between the two groups during religious services and consultations. Most Chinese parishioners eventually learn a few Thai greetings which they use to express solidarity with Thai acquaintances, but they then quickly revert to the more familiar Malay medium. Those Chinese who latterly moved to the towns have also recruited new patrons for Thai temples from among the ranks of their less assimilated urban cousins. Those with rural experience act as interpreters for wealthy friends whom they guide to Siam Village. The offspring of Thai women who have married urban Chinese are another reliable source of urban patronage. The original urban Chinese patronage focused on a handful of Thai temples with prominent resident monks; but in recent years this patronage has been extended to include a far larger number of locations. A growing emphasis on fund-raising festivities, improved transportation facilities, and more effective publicity have helped attract potential patrons to other temples. Post-World War II affluence among Chinese merchants has also released more funds for charitable activities. At this point I would like to relate some of the specific services which Siam Villagers customarily provide as religious specialists for their Chinese patrons. I will sketch the roles played by Thai monks, laymen, and the temple qua welfare institution. Kelantanese monks move around a great deal because a majority of their "services" entail presiding over merit-making ceremonies in numerous villages and towns throughout Kelantan. Their participation lends sanctity to many different kinds of Chinese and Thai rites such as funerals, weddings, housewarmings, business inaugurations, and dedications of new religious structures. Besides leading parishioners in antiphonal chants, they ?aw bun, or assist worshippers in their meritorious activities, by symbolically receiving donations of food or materiel, often on behalf of their temples. Both rural and urban Chinese regularly request the attendance of Siam Village monks at a particular rite by contacting the abbot beforehand. Since most rituals involving large-scale merit-making require the presence of at least four monks, officiants are usually recruited from two or more temples so as not to deprive any one temple of its entire staff. Wealthy Chinese, for instance, may summon monks to suad kraduug, that is, recite prayers for the departed, as many as five different times: on the day of the cremation or burial, and then

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seven days, one hundred days, one year, and three years thereafter. On such occasions the monks' expenses are always paid by their hosts, and, in addition, a collection is taken to assure that each monk receives some spending money. Monks may do what they please with this modest cash income. As I mentioned in the section on Thai magic practitioners, large numbers of outgroup visitors show up at the Siam Village temple in search of magical assistance, especially from the abbot. During the last two decades a sizable industry has grown up around the manufacture and sale of amulets (sirj motjkhon), and, in particular, a variety of leaden scroll engraved with numerals and letters in Old Cambodian (kh^m) script taken from Thai religious texts. These khidtham^n are generally tied around the waist or wrist,45 and are believed to have very special protective powers, especially when blessed by as holy a monk as the Siam Village abbot. The leaden or silver strips for these charms are frequently supplied by Chinese patrons who place special orders for large quantities. The engraving is done by younger monks at the temple who are trained by the abbot shortly after their ordination. It may take several hours to complete one strip, which is then rolled into a hollow cylinder and strung on an ornate cord and eventually sent to the abbot for sanctification. Though no price is set upon these items, recipients usually contribute about M$10 to the temple. Such transactions are referred to as daj bun, roughly "receiving meritorious contributions," rather than khaakhaaj, or "doing business." The demand for these charms is so great that significant pressure is applied to young engravers to remain in the monkhood long after they originally planned to leave, or at least until a replacement can be trained. Visitors from as far away as Bangkok and Singapore have come to Siam Village to request such articles. Needless to say, they are a major souce of income for the temple as well as a productive kind of employment for young monks. Other services commonly provided to Chinese callers by monks include divinations, preparation of herbal medicines, and exorcisms. The Thai Buddhist monkhood serves the Kelantanese Chinese community in still another way. There are a few Chinese, mostly ThaiChinese, who choose to be ordained themselves. Very few of these men ever consider a career in the monkhood, especially if their knowledge of Thai is inadequate. Most will enter the monastic life for only a few days, or at most, one Lenten season. Their ordination is usually in fulfillment of a vow made during the illness of a family member. I was informed by the abbot in the Thai-Chinese village of Kulim that only about 5 percent of the rural Chinese men are ever ordained, and almost none of the urban Chinese. The few Chinese who do pursue careers as monks tend, however, to enjoy greater vertical social mobility than their Thai associ-

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ates. Because of their superior education and assets, they go on to serve at the large temples at Kuala Lumpur or progress up the religious hierarchy in Bangkok. Those who stay only a short time in the temple become close friends of the Thais and remain loyal parishioners afterwards. The role of the Thai laymen as religious functionaries for the Chinese is a uniquely Kelantanese phenomenon. In Siam Village a handful of respected villagers are regularly called upon to serve in advisory or managerial capacities at Chinese functions where Thai Buddhist rituals are to be held. These men are all former monks who have earned reputations as literati. Their function is to instruct Chinese parishioners in the technicalities of organizing rituals involving monks. Moreover, they serve as leaders for Chinese worshippers who are unfamiliar with the Thai and Pali languages and prescribed procedures of chanting. They commonly enunciate the congregation's parts of the antiphonal chants to permit the Chinese to imitate as best they can the sacred words. Usually when monks are summoned to a Chinese rite, at least one Thai lay consultant will be asked to go along. These men are also responsible for directing merit-making activities where cash must be handled, for monks are technically forbidden to come in contact with money. In addition to these lay religious experts, other Siam Villagers are sometimes drafted to accompany the Thai religious staff as "extras." 46 Not infrequently, as in the case of Chinese funerals, the host family will lack sufficient Chinese friends or kinsmen to organize what they feel is a dignified ceremony. Siam Villagers are especially likely to flesh out the ranks of mourners at funeral services held in the temple. In return for their participation they are given ample quantities of good food and their transportation costs. At times villagers are also summoned to work as assistants in preparing food at Chinese weddings and funerals. In these instances they are paid a salary. There are times when Thai laymen actually serve in non-Thai religious functions. Most important is their role as morticians for certain groups of Chinese and Indians. Their unenviable task is usually to bathe and dress the corpse prior to a cremation or burial. Some Chinese—for example, the Hainanese—are extremely fearful of handling corpses. They readily hire outsiders to perform this unpleasant work, which they believe exposes one to very dangerous spirits. Siam Villagers, in general, are not squeamish about contact with corpses. The dead, they say, can no longer harm the living. In private they ridicule the Chinese for being so frightened. They expect much higher pay for work on corpses which have been left lying around for more than two days. Only the spirits of dead people who have been neglected can pose a threat, and they associate the foul smell of an older corpse with supernatural forces. The normal hiring procedure for such services is as follows: a Chinese will con-

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tact a Thai acquaintance or referee requesting the assistance of several villagers in return for a proposed payment. These groups of three to five Thai men receive from M$5 to M$25 each for their participation. Furthermore, they are frequently given many of the deceased's belongings, some of which may have considerable value. Those who participate in this kind of work are in no way stigmatized socially; among their numbers are included some of the village's most respected elders. Textor (1976) notes that, in central Thailand, these undertakers would usually be found at the very bottom of the status hierarchy. Through its temple Siam Village as a whole functions as a multipurpose welfare institution for Chinese parishioners. In 1973-1974 the temple compound housed three elderly Chinese women (and one Thai) who had been ordained as permanent mtz chii, or Buddhist nuns. None of the three had come from impoverished backgrounds; they were all partially supported by regular donations from their families. Each, in fact, managed her own little household located within the confines of the temple compound. All seemed quite content to stay at the temple, where they enjoyed adequate companionship and could concentrate on meritorious activities. Two of the temple boys at that time were from Chinese families living near Kota Bharu. One was a congenital idiot who spoke practically no Thai or Malay and who had been left to the charity of the temple by his widowed Chinese mother. The mother could not provide much financial assistance, but would come to visit her unfortunate son several times each year. The boy was treated kindly by the villagers, who were fully cognizant of his handicap, and after a couple of years he seemed to have adjusted rather well to his new surroundings. A second youth apparently possessed normal intelligence, but had been committed to the care of the temple staff because his parents had found him to be a chronic disciplinary problem. His mischievous tendencies seemed to have subsided in the service of the monks. Where boys were once sent to the temple to receive an education, the emphasis today is on providing shelter for underprivileged or delinquent youngsters. Within the village, but outside the temple compound, two Thai households cared for psychotic Chinese "patients." In one case, a pair of widows earned M$100 each month watching over a schizophrenic Chinese woman in her late forties. She occupied her own little hut behind their house and was not known to communicate with anyone. The other invalid was a young Thai-Chinese girl who appeared to be a manic-depressive. She was often quite communicative but suffered from periods of severe depression and fatigue. Though she lived with a family of Thai relatives, she spent much of her time sitting quietly inside the temple compound. 47 The Siam Village temple compound has long served as a cemetery for neighboring Chinese. Though the Thais, themselves, no longer bury their

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dead, they have never objected to occasional Chinese burials talcing place at their temple.48 In the thaapreew, or "graveyard," directly behind the compound, can be seen several Chinese graves (preew). This is one spot within the village that was formerly felt to harbor malevolent spirits. More open to the view of the public is the bua, or depository for cinerary urns (luug bua). Several highly decorated individual urns surround a large, modest common urn. On closer inspection one finds that most of the elegant individual ones contain the ashes of Chinese, while the larger receives the remains of all but the wealthiest Siam Villagers. Regardless of where Chinese funerals are held, the remains commonly wind up at the temple. There, the survivors will continue to pay their respects to the deceased. Siam Villagers are hired to construct and look after the Chinese urns. They may also be called upon to exhume previously buried remains for transfer to urns in the Siam Village bua. Thus, for instance, when one Chinese sold some of his land to a nearby sawmill, he employed four Thai men to remove the bones of his ancestors who were buried there. In another case, the body of a Kuala Lumpur Chinese who had been killed in an automobile accident was brought to Siam Village for cremation and the ashes deposited there. Finally, the Siam Village temple, on occasion, has provided refuge for impoverished outsiders and served as a storehouse for the possessions of beleaguered Chinese. During the Japanese occupation unemployed Indians, particularly, were provided with food. Even today Malay mendicants now and then beg for, and are given, rice at the temple. Also during the occupation, many Chinese from nearby settlements brought their belongings to the temple for safekeeping, lest their property should be confiscated or stolen by the Japanese or their supporters. Siam Villagers recall that it was necessary for the first time in those days to build a fence around the temple compound. Villagers took shifts guarding the valuables stored inside. Fortunately, the Japanese chose not to disturb the Thais, whose northern cousins were still their allies. Let us now look briefly at the ways in which Chinese patronage of the Siam Village temple benefits the whole community. First, it is evident that Chinese wealth has stimulated an expansion of the Kelantanese monkhood through the sponsorship of more and better temple facilities. Additional temples like those in the Chinese villages of Thanooq and Kulim provide new positions for career and temporary monks. Though seldom discussed, it is an economic fact that each village can only afford to support a limited number of temple personnel at any given time. By contributing to a temple's treasury, the Chinese enable that temple's parish to accommodate a larger number of monks in much more comfortable quarters. Wealthier parishes naturally provide superior accommodations for resident religious personnel. These communities are

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popular places to serve and are more frequently chosen by monks, who are free to transfer from temple to temple. The Siam Village temple is considered a very desirable place to serve because of such amenities as locally generated electricity, running water, comfortable modern monks' cells (kuti) where each monk enjoys his privacy, the use of such electronic equipment as radios and tape recorders, and generally decent food, especially on festive occasions. Siam Village monks have been heard to grumble about the lack of meat in the food at other temples and the relative lack of excitement at more isolated locations. Service at prosperous temples is never terribly demanding and the standard of living is every bit as good as that of the wealthiest villagers. Monks receive a great deal of respect and deference regardless of their previous lay status. And, furthermore, alternative employment opportunities remain modest, to say the least. Those laymen who reject agricultural employment usually end up working as construction laborers or, at best, petty clerks with little economic security. Nor are most of these jobs permanent. Monks, on the other hand, are assured of institutional security as long as they wish to remain in service. They enjoy considerable geographical mobility and, if careful, can save up tidy sums of money from merit offerings. I contend, then, that Chinese patronage permits more men to spend greater amounts of time in the monkhood. 4 ' This pattern, as we shall see, is very functional in reducing tensions resulting from a shortage of Thai women. Due to the high frequency of marriages between Thai women and Chinese men, it is becoming increasingly difficult for young Thai men to find Thai spouses. Greater numbers of permanent monks also imply a curtailment of population growth within the Thai villages. Cole and Wolf (1974:71) have noted similar developments in the Tyrol after the tenth century. There, too, the establishment of many new monasteries was believed to be in response to population pressures. We have seen that much of the money contributed to Thai temples by Chinese constitutes meritorious payments for services rendered by monks. Donations are also made which are earmarked for the construction of temple buildings or monuments. In the two years between 1972 and 1974, groups of urban Chinese patrons raised approximately M$3,000 to underwrite the construction of a large, seated Buddha statue and a new concrete portal for the temple compound. This sum included materials which were contributed free by merchants and cash to be used as wages for several villagers who were employed in the construction. Many of the lesser structures and modern utilities have been presented to the temple in this fashion by individuals or small groups. Larger structures require the marshaling of funds from several sources. The construction of the abbot's special quarters in 1967-1968 and the kitchen in

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1972-1973 required a total expenditure of about M$78,000. This sum was mostly covered by donations made to the abbot in return for charms and cures received. Another principal source of funding for these structures was a multitude of small donations made by visitors to the temple's fairs. In many Kelantanese Thai villages special fairs are organized for the sole purpose of raising money for such construction. Adjacent communities profit a great deal from such enterprises. Sometimes the project entails the construction or repair of a bridge or road leading to the temple. These improvements, of course, benefit the residential community as much as the temple and are enthusiastically promoted by creative lay leaders. Again, much of the labor is contributed by the local villagers who receive wages for their efforts. During the construction of the Siam Village kitchen several skilled villagers were gainfully employed for over a year by the abbot. 50 Soliciting the patronage of the Chinese necessarily calls for promotional competence and sufficient effort on the part of local Thai religious leaders. Long before the day on which a fund-raising event is to take place, both monks and laymen occupy themselves in generating enthusiasm for the festivity. Their publicity campaigns consist of efforts to contact as many potential visitors as possible by activating existing ThaiChinese communications networks. Those Siam Villagers with relatives or friends in distant villages will formally request the attendance or support of the latter either through a messenger or a personal visit. Often such functions are planned far enough in advance to permit announcements to be made at previous festivities in the host village or elsewhere. I was continually impressed with the efficiency of this communications system. Occasionally I was informed by an urban Chinese in Kota Bharu of a fair to be held in a nearby Thai village and would then discover that word of the event had not yet reached the Siam Villagers. Fair organizers often prove to be excellent public relations people. Unlike in the days before World War II, fairs are now held on Thursdays, Fridays, or official holidays to accommodate the Chinese urbanites' weekly work schedules.51 Regular patrons are asked to make additional merit by contributing food or entertainment facilities. One Ceylonese-Chinese cinema manager in Kota Bharu can always be counted on to contribute old films and projection equipment to Siam Village fairs. Other Chinese merchants contribute large quantities of fish and boar meat. At unusually large fairs, busloads of Chinese visitors arrive from as far away as Trengganu, especially if they are promised a large variety of entertainment troupes. Siam Villagers are very aware that much of their temple's prosperity has depended upon the fame of its abbot. The old monk has suffered from ill health for several years now and spends much of his time prepar-

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ing for his next reincarnation. Across from his simple bed awaits a large ornate coffin which he has ordered from Bangkok for M$ 1,200. He seems to take great pride in the box where his body will lie for two or three years before he is cremated. During that period the villagers plan to raise a sizeable sum of money from visitors who will be drawn to the village to see the reliclike coffin. Then they expect to organize perhaps the grandest cremation ceremony ever held in Kelantan. To provide for a future without their abbot, the villagers have commissioned a sculptural likeness of the abbot which now sits in the consecration hall. This piece of sculpture is to be the urn in which the abbot's ashes will be placed. Villagers believe that this urn will preserve much of the magical power which the abbot possessed during his lifetime. Thus, when the abbot dies, they feel that visitors will continue to show a preference for their temple, because they will continue to come and make merit at the site of this powerful relic. Much of the money and materiel which the Chinese donate to the Kelantanese Thai temples is carefully distributed to benefit not only the recipient institution but also other less fortunate temples. Though villages with well-known monks attract more patronage, I have never found any evidence that different temples vie for the support of wealthy patrons. On the contrary, surplus goods and cash are commonly presented by one temple to another during fairs. The Siam Village abbot, for instance, delegated some younger monks and respected laymen to deliver a contribution of M$1,000 to the construction of a giant reclining Buddha image at another temple compound. Surplus religious paraphernalia, like the large candles donated by Bangkok tourists, are distributed to temples which have received none. Charms, as well, are consecrated by a prestigious monk at one temple and forwarded for distribution at other, lesser-known temples. Thus far, I have covered the numerous contexts in which Siam Villagers profit by serving as advisers and assistants to the Chinese in their religious activities. All villagers, however, indirectly derive additional benefits from the Chinese patronage of their temple. Chinese parishioners, for example, are able to contribute much finer foods to the temple feasts than can Thai villagers. Domestic pork, shrimp, large sea fish, expensive dried and fresh fruits, and other delicacies are only encountered by most villagers during temple festivities. Frequently, large quantities of such foods are left over in the kitchen. The next day villagers can be seen wandering into the kitchen one by one to collect their fair share of the remaining delicacies. Chinese devotees also provide plentiful sweets and special holiday foods to the abbot during visits. Many of these items are passed on to villagers. Villagers regularly use temple facilities which have been contributed by Chinese. They bathe in the tiled washrooms, cook in

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the kitchen, play the tape recorders and radios, nap on the wooden floors of the newer buildings, fetch water from the electric pump, and receive high status guests in the more lavish rooms of the temple, rather than in their own homes. Villagers may also borrow cash from the temple treasury or from individual monks in cases of emergency. Last, but not least, several village households set up independent refreshment and lottery booths from which they derive handsome profits during temple fairs. In the following chapter, I shall discuss how the Thais' role as religious specialists has broadened their contacts with the Chinese community, and in so doing, created much greater opportunities for outside employment and advantageous marriages. I shall argue that the priestly and lay religious specialists, like the diverse groups of nagleeij, have contributed considerably to the expansion of Thai economic influence. Their strategy of adaptive specialization along ethnic lines has enabled Siam Villagers to wring a comfortable living out of an otherwise grudging Kelantanese socioeconomic fabric.

CHAPTER 4

Economic Salvation: A Diffuse Socioeconomic Niche Defined by Ethnic Distinctiveness

BROKERS OF MORALITY: A PARADOXICAL ETHNIC IMAGE

In chapter 3,1 outlined several nonagricultural sources of income which Siam Villagers have successfully tapped by accommodating neighboring Malays who are not averse to committing certain improprieties so long as these indiscretions go undetected among their more devout coreligionists. Thus, for example, Thai specialists in love charms and sorcery dispense their magic unbeknownst to the intended victims. Similarly, through the most subtle of transactions, ritually impure meat finds its way into the hands of the Thais, but seldom without adequate compensation for Malay generosity and assistance. Within the area of Siam Village other profit-making facilities have evolved over the years in response to demands from elements of the surrounding Malay social landscape for a refuge from highly restrictive Malay-Muslim moral codes. Specifically, Siam Villagers provide accommodations for deviant Malays who regularly visit the village to indulge freely in such tabooed activities as gambling, drinking, or fasting violations. It would be naive to doubt that most neighboring Malay villagers suspect that these activities are taking place. As we shall see, there has always been a tradition of such deviance among a minority of Kelantan's Malays. But there seems to be a willingness on the part of the surrounding Malay communities and local government authorities to tolerate this state of affairs and even to grant immunity to those who violate socioreligious restrictions only in Thai territory. Later, I shall suggest why this might be. Certainly the most popular attractions that Siam Village has offered outside Malays have been its interethnic games of chance, especially

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those of mahjong, cards, and dice. None of these games is at all novel as a pastime among Kelantanese Malay villagers. On the contrary, such forms of gambling have long prevailed as "an outstanding social problem" in that state (see Chan Su-ming, 1965:170). As far back as the eighteenth century, gambling at festivals was recognized as a regular part of the way of life (Tweedie, 1953:218). In 1908, Graham (117-118) reported that the Kelantanese enthusiastically wagered their money on the outcomes of contests like bullfighting, buffalo-fighting, ram-fighting, cockfighting, fish-fighting, and boat racing, while gambling with cards or dice was strictly prohibited. Nowadays, with the exception of mahjong and the state lotteries, all gaming activities have been "officially" curtailed by the state authorities even though many continue to be organized surreptitiously in villages throughout the countryside. Downs (1967:177), for instance, has noted that the villagers of Jeram are wont to participate in clandestine illegal gambling activities outside of their village. Just as Geertz (1972) has shown in the Balinese case, forms of gambling (for example, cockfighting) persist as part of the Kelantanese way of life despite restrictions imposed by puritanical governmental authorities. What is unique about the gambling which takes place in Siam Village is its peculiarly interethnic character. In several Kelantanese Thai villages, in fact, there seems to be a tradition of interethnic gaming in Thai territory. In some cases, Thais may join Malay companions in Malay coffee shops for legal games of checkers or mahjong, but illegal games, involving much higher stakes, tend to occur within the confines of the Thai communities. At times, groups of Malay gamblers may even play alone on Thai soil, but the usual arrangement includes several outside Malays who gather at the house of a particular Siam Villager. These underground gambling activities normally signal a generalized relaxation of Malay socioreligious restraints. The same Malays who would never drink from Thai vessels during public gatherings for fear of contamination, eagerly partake of coffee and sweets proffered by their Thai hosts in the thick of a card game. And during the fasting month of Ramadan, these same gamblers are found smoking and eating in Siam Village, while their more pious neighbors observe the Islamic fast back in their own villages. There are generous profits to be extracted by the Thai sponsors of the various games of chance. As a rule, the host is permitted to remove a small sum of money from each pot. This commission, or "cost of the midnight oil," may be collected by any member of the host's family.' In return, the host is expected to provide his guests, both Malay and Thai, with abundant supplies of betel, tobacco, and soft drinks. It is not uncommon for a host to receive a net profit of as much as M$10 for one day. Some games are known to last as long as thirty-six hours. The owner

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of the local Thai sundries store also benefits from such activities when players send off for cigarettes and snacks. Undoubtedly, the most popular interethnic activity regularly taking place in Siam Village is the practically nonstop game of mahjong, which is carried on daily in a shed slightly removed from the road. Since mahjong has been deemed a permissible pastime by the local government, 2 especially when played for low stakes as in Siam Village, no special attempts are made to conceal this game from passersby. Many temporary onlookers, in fact, are disinterested acquaintances who have been momentarily diverted from their chores. The active participants, themselves, do not constitute a fixed group in any sense, although they do interact as representatives of preordained contrastive categories manifested in rather peculiar seating arrangements. To a large extent, the ad hoc group assembled around the shed's two square tables at any given time, corresponds nicely to Erving Goffman's (1961:8) notion of a "focused gathering." 3 As Geertz (1972:424) would phrase it, the participants in the mahjong game are " a set of persons engrossed in a common flow of activity and relating to one another in terms of that flow." As the gathering continues hour after hour and reconvenes day after day, new players arrive to replace others and no real sense of group emerges, although all participants carefully adhere to the rules governing the interaction. The most curious feature of Siam Village's mahjong game is the tacit understanding among players that play can begin only when representatives of both Thai and Malay ethnic categories are participating. This phenomenon is especially noteworthy since mahjong is a game played by individuals, not teams. In nine out of ten cases, two Malays sit across from each other while two Thais face each other on the perpendicular axis. Never, during the countless hours which I observed the game, did any set of four players deviate from this rule. When asked why they maintained so rigid a seating arrangement, both Thai and Malay players remarked that they probably do not fully trust each other. When a Chinese occasionally joins the game, he or she may replace either a Thai or a Malay—in this case the rules are more flexible. One Thai, who has taken a Malay wife and converted to Islam, is still required to occupy only a Thai position. To begin a new round of play, it is customary for a few Malay men (Malay women never play) to show up at the home of the shed's owner and announce their intentions to get the game under way. But organizing a contest is not always that simple, for two Thai participants also have to be summoned. I recall instances, especially during Thai religious festivities, when large groups of Malay players sat around for hours waiting for a couple of Thais to join them so that the game could begin. An all-Malay game is unheard of. Nor do Thais generally play among themselves, unless they are entertaining visitors from distant

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Thai or Chinese villages. Prior to the advent of these interethnic gatherings, some ten years before, a few Malays played among themselves in a shop at the market junction. But in the last decade, the Siam Village location has become so popular that no other regular mahjong game is known to exist in any villages within a radius of two or three miles. It is obvious that Malay men feel more comfortable playing within Siam Village, away from the accusatory eyes of their orthodox fellow villagers. Some also admit openly that they feel better winning money from members of an outgroup rather than from Malay friends and neighbors. Given the fact that a typical mahjong game lasts from midmoming right through until early evening, I began to wonder how it is that hardworking rice and rubber cultivators could afford to devote so many of their productive hours to this pastime. A survey of about thirty regular Malay participants turned up some intriguing facts. More than half of the Malay participants lived further away than Melayu Village. Almost two-thirds of the Malay players were under thirty-five years of age,4 and many of those were bachelors or divorcés. Only three Malay men over forty-five participated. The majority of the Thai players, on the other hand, were older married women. No unmarried Thai women played. Those Thai men who joined in, varied in age from about twenty to seventy. The typical arrangement, though, included young Malay men playing with older, married Thai women. Equally striking was the preponderance of well-to-do landowners among the Malay gamblers. Many of the Malay visitors could afford to while away the hours around the mahjong tables because their income was derived in full from the labor of others who were sharecropping their land. Some were not yet burdened with domestic responsibilities. They were truly members of the indigenous leisure class. Within the ranks of the Malay players were also a few salaried persons like policemen, teachers, and former soldiers with relatively high cash incomes. In general, the Malay mahjong players had traveled more extensively and were much more outwardly oriented than the average Malay villager. The same things could be said for most of their Thai counterparts. Seldom did any of Siam Village's more productive agriculturalists play mahjong. Only three of the boar hunters occasionally took part. It was the older, married Thai women—who no longer worked much in the fields or raised small children, but had a little spending money—who could spare the most time. Besides doing a great deal of gambling, these women were far and away the most enthusiastic travelers and visitors to temple fairs. It would appear, then, that interethnic gambling games have evolved as rather highly structured contexts for interaction between more leisured elements of both the Malay and Thai communities. During the hours which I looked in on the mahjong game, I was re-

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The mahjong shed. Well-dressed Malay young men play with modestly dressed Thai older men and women.

minded again and again that, at least in this form of gambling, participants are only playing for fun. Players nearly never discuss who is winning or losing, but if it is apparent that a certain player has experienced abnormally poor luck, the game will be extended late into the night, thereby providing that person with an opportunity to recoup the afternoon's losses. Now and then, such losers are granted loans or even given sums of money by the winners. To my knowledge, no one has ever been refused a loan in this context, and no one has ever defaulted on the payment of such loans. Not uncommonly, loans are voluntarily paid with interest. A player can win or lose as much as M$40 in an afternoon, but over an extended period of time, most manage to come out about even, except for the percentage relinquished to the game's proprietor. Here, as in the case of the more concealed card and dice games, the hosts reap handsome profits in return for snacks and stimulants provided, and for the general upkeep of the tables and equipment. 5 While watching the rather spirited social interaction under way among the numerous mahjong players and spectators, I was tempted to designate the whole scene as a triumph for "mahjong diplomacy." On the surface, it is a simple game of chance, but, more important, it sets the stage for sustained interethnic interaction. In no other context, for in-

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stance, do Melayu and Siam Villagers interact in such large numbers or for such long periods of time. Despite the amount of money changing hands, there are never any flare-ups of temper to cope with. Outgroup neighbors who normally avoid commensality can share bottled beverages and commercial biscuits while playing. And the shed is located just far enough from the public road for Malay players to stay clear of the censorious eyes and ears of their sanctimonious neighbors. Unlike the highly structured, low-risk mahjong game, dice and card games are covert, sporadic assemblages of Malay and Thai villagers whose primary concern is to multiply their cash investments in a short period of time. These high-stakes games also attract well-heeled outsiders from different areas of the surrounding countryside. They tend to become more frequent just after the rice harvests when villagers' pockets are full of cash, which they have received in return for their paddy surpluses. As a rule, information about an upcoming game is spread via individual contacts to gamblers in neighboring Malay communities. Arrangements are made with the head of a particular Thai household for the use of his house. There is an element of potential danger involved in hosting these highly illicit gatherings. To compensate for the risks taken, Thai hosts are assured of sizeable commissions. Stories circulate about former gambling raids in Malay villages—undertaken by local police with the assistance of local informers—in which participants and hosts have been quite heavily fined. In every case, however, the informers have been disgruntled Malay neighbors complaining about immoral activities in their own villages. No such incidents are known to have occurred within the confines of the Thai village. On occasion, extemporaneous Malay gambling parties will converge on one of several isolated clearings within the Thai village and proceed to transact their business on a makeshift surface of straw mats. These spasms of gaming activity are thoroughly unpredictable. They can start impulsively at any time during the day and last for indeterminable periods of time. When no Thai household head can be contacted on such short notice, care is taken not to jeopardize any landowner by gambling on his property during his absence. Instead, sites are chosen that border on the compounds of two or more different Siam Village households. In such cases, it is felt that the police cannot hold the landowners responsible for what transpires there. Moreover, participants do not feel obliged to contribute any commissions to the landowners. The heaviest betting usually takes place during games of Chinese dice (Kel. Malay, mairj tw-yq; Kel. Thai, len luug paa). While apparently affluent outside Malays wager hundreds of dollars at a sitting, less well-todo and more conservative Siam Villagers will pool their resources to support representatives playing at much lower stakes. Every Thai household

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that can afford to sends along some money. Here, again, at least as many Thai women as Thai men play, whereas all Malay participants are men. Staking a player in such a contest is a move akin to purchasing several lottery tickets. One seldom wins, but if one does win, the winnings may be substantial. Among the heavy bettors, plots of land and cattle are known to change hands. Unlike the mahjong game, these more mercenary pursuits do not require interethnic participation. Nevertheless, at least token Thai representation is the norm. Seating is much more random, though small contingents of Thais prefer to huddle together. Another popular pastime among outside Malays in Siam Village is the drinking of homemade rice liquor and toddy, which are sold by two or three different Thai households throughout the year. Just as in the case of gambling, imbibing alcoholic beverages is morally unacceptable within Muslim-Malay villages but is tolerated among Buddhist-Thais. Malay officials are always very tolerant with respect to the Thai custom of making and drinking these beverages as long as such activities are confined to the Thais' own villages. Now and then, rice liquor is served at temple fairs without any repercussions. Ironically, it is the government officials and police who can be counted among the still owners' steadiest customers. Other regular drinkers include Malay tractor and van drivers, and about a dozen individuals from communities further away who prefer to indulge discreetly in the privacy of the Thai village. One young Thai couple derives a large part of their income from the sale of rice liquor to outside Malays and Chinese. A soft-drink bottle full of liquor sells for M$l, and the equivalent amount of toddy for twenty cents. I found no evidence of any drinking among residents of immediately adjacent Malay villages like Melayu Village. Nor will Siam Villagers even consider tapping the palms of Melayu Village neighbors to obtain additional toddy. To broach the subject would be too embarrassing, although Siam Village hunters have been known to tap the trees of distant Malay associates. Without doubt, the most popular time of the year for deviant Malays to congregate at Siam Village is during the Islamic fasting month of Ramadan. Behind the walls of Thai houses, less devout Malay villagers feel free to consume cigarettes and snacks long before the permissible hour at twilight. Hard-working Malay cultivators in the fields are also accustomed to sharing the drinking water of their Thai neighbors when the heat and thirst become unbearable. Unlike the city dwellers, who can rest during the daylight hours and resume their activities after dusk, these country folk often have agricultural tasks to accomplish during the day. Siam Villagers are generally sympathetic toward the plight of their Malay neighbors during the fasting season. Despite the additional demand which fasting violations create for Thai goods and services, the Thais

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always treat their impious clientele as though nothing out-of-theordinary were taking place. It should be understood that throughout this discussion of Siam Village as a locus for Malay deviance, I have been describing the aberrant behavior of a relatively tiny minority of Malay villagers. Only when these marginal types are drawn from an expansive surrounding area do their numbers begin to swell to the point where meeting their needs becomes a lucrative industry for numerous Siam Village households. This is but one more facet of the Siam Villagers' successful adaptation to an exceptionally diffuse economic niche. Let us return for a moment to an issue that was adumbrated earlier in this section, namely, why it is that local Malay religious and political authorities tolerate or ignore large-scale violations of Malay socioreligious regulations within the area of Siam Village. Throughout Malaysia, the State of Kelantan is well known as a stronghold of Malay-Muslim socioreligious orthodoxy. Nowhere are the Islamic religious courts more powerful or more influential in the lives of the Malay populace than around Kota Bharu. The authority of the courts is said to extend right down into practically every Malay village, not only in the person of the village-level religious leader, or imam, but also through the presence of (suspected) informers. On several occasions Malay friends pointed out fellow villagers to me whom they identified as "spies" for the religious courts. I am inclined to dismiss most of these suspicions as symptoms of a generalized paranoia resulting from a highly constrained social environment. There seems to be a consensus among some researchers that unusually strong social pressures for rigorous socioreligious observance are the rule in Kelantanese Malay villages (see, for example, Raybeck, 1974:232). Nash (1974b:50) would have us believe that these pressures, along with a lack of privacy, makes deviance very unlikely: "The religion is so public, so codified, and the villagers are so visible to each other that breaches of the minimal behavioral code bring not only inner suffering but disapprobation and official chiding from elders and religious leaders." In contrast to these reports of dutiful conformity to formal religious observance, Kessler (1974:307) emphasizes the shortcomings of the average Kelantanese Malay villager in meeting his religious obligations. To Kessler, full attention to the letter of the religious law " . . . is commonly regarded by . . . [Kelantanese Malay villagers] . . . as ideally a mode of religiosity appropriate only to learned teachers and aged villagers preoccupied with approaching death."' My own impression is that laxity in Malay socioreligious observance is ultimately a matter of individual conscience (suka had) and is not even considered publicly reprehensible so long as it takes place in private. As Burridge (1957:166)

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has remarked, any wrongdoing is the individual's own and is a matter to be settled between the sinner and God. I agree with Burridge (1957:166) that ordinary people are expected to make mistakes or behave disgracefully at times. To sin is human, but those with proper breeding learn not to sin in contexts where they might offend fellow villagers. T o openly repudiate moral authority, and thereby compromise the beliefs of others, is deemed a far more serious offense than privately defaulting on a formal religious obligation. 7 These notions of propriety apply to traditional rural Kelantanese values rather than the more stringently enforced regulations imposed mainly upon urban dwellers by Kota Bharu's religious courts, which literally patrol the streets and even conduct raids in search of Muslims violating Islamic laws. In a manner of speaking, the border between Siam Village and neighboring Malay communities is as much a moral frontier as a cultural frontier. To nonconformist Malays from surrounding communities, the Thai village represents a retreat to which they can go whenever they wish to disregard Islamic religious constraints temporarily without arousing the contempt of their coreligionists. None of their activities is considered particularly offensive by local Thai moral standards, as long as it is pursued in moderation. Nor do Siam Villagers express any resentment regarding the continual presence of outsiders. On the contrary, the Malay visitors are welcomed as clients and friends. More devout members of neighboring Malay villages are certainly aware of many of the transgressions that take place in Siam Village. If sufficiently outraged, they could easily appeal to the urban religious authorities to put an end to such goings-on. I suggest, however, that they recognize the inevitability of the deviant fringe and are content to permit these morally marginal elements of their communities to backslide in an area where they will do the least harm to traditional village mores. As a consequence, there has been absolutely no interference on the part of Malay community leaders or religious authorities. Nor, as far as I can discern, are aberrant individuals reproved by friends or kin for what they do in the Thai village—unless, of course, they neglect their household responsibilities or gamble away their incomes. Another reason why Siam Village has prospered as a refuge for nonconformists is the Thais' reputation for preserving confidentiality and steering clear of involvement with the authorities. Throughout Kelantan, Malays are reported to respect their Thai neighbors as honest and peaceloving people. I have already mentioned the Siam Village magicians' reluctance to gossip about their clients' affairs with outsiders. Often in providing me with information, Thais would withhold the names of those they were discussing. During the Japanese occupation, several Malays are said to have stored their valuables at Thai houses when

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lawlessness prevailed in their own villages. In the last few decades, no Siam Villagers have ever been in trouble with the local police in spite of the fact that the overall district was long classified by authorities as a kawasan hitam, or "black zone," in reference to its high rate of crime. Incidents of theft have occurred in the village in which neighboring Malays were implicated. But rather than informing the police, Siam Villagers have consistently opted to negotiate for the return of their stolen property through informal channels, soliciting the cooperation of neighboring Malay villagers.' Such settlements have usually proven disadvantageous—in most instances, the thief is persuaded to return the stolen goods for a fixed sum of money. Nonetheless, villagers prefer not to align themselves with the police in suits against local Malay troublemakers. So respected are the Thais for minding their own business that the local police themselves do their carousing at the Thai village. Let us return now to the title of this section. In designating the Siam Villagers as "brokers of morality," I am asserting that a large part of their socioeconomic adaptation has been unique in its use of socioreligjous differences as structural bases for extensive interethnic economic relations. In the role of religious specialists, the Siam Villagers facilitate the performance of meritorious deeds by members of Kelantan's Chinese community. In the role of disinterested but trustworthy kafir, or "heathens," they facilitate the violation of local Islamic moral codes by scattered elements of the Malay-Muslim community. As one Thai villager has stated the case: " W e help the Chinese to make merit and the Malays to make demerit.'" As a separate ethnic group they are able to offer social institutions which complement those of their outgroup neighbors. It has been my contention that these institutions satisfy important needs in both the Chinese and Malay communities. The Thai temple and monkhood offer rural Chinese a rich, literary religious tradition to supplement their ancestor worship. The temple also serves as a badly needed welfare institution for these Chinese. The various facilities in Siam Village which accommodate Malay deviance are also performing a useful function for surrounding Malay communities. Rather than undermining Malay morality, Siam Villagers actually help to safeguard it by isolating the transgressors and reducing intravillage conflict over moral issues. INCREASED EMPLOYMENT OPPORTUNITIES AND MARRIAGES OF THAI WOMEN TO PROSPEROUS CHINESE AND INDIANS

In their roles as religious specialists for the Chinese, the Siam Villagers receive a fair number of material benefits. But those benefits in themselves do not constitute the major source of Chinese support for the local Thai economy. In the long run, it is the social contacts which Thai religious specialists have established with their Chinese patrons that have

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paved the way for the more substantive Chinese contributions to the redemption of the Thai village economy. Rural Chinese have gravitated to Kelantanese Thai settlements for generations in search of wives and religious guidance. We saw in chapter 3 how the rural Chinese have also gradually induced their wealthier urban cousins to become principal benefactors of Thai village temples. In receiving these well-to-do patrons, the Thai villagers have made an unusually favorable impression as well-behaved, reliable, dignified people. As a consequence, a sizeable number of employment opportunities have opened up in urban Chinese businesses and homes for available Thai labor. And like their rural cousins, urban Chinese men have been taking greater numbers of Thai women as brides. Before considering the foregoing developments in more detail, let us briefly review the historical factors which have catalyzed the sociocultural alliance between Kelantan's Chinese and Thais. Prior to the early decades of the twentieth century, no Chinese women were known to have accompanied the Chinese gold miners and merchants who settled along the Kelantan coast (Middlebrook, 1933:153). In describing the Siamese Malay states at the turn of the century, Annandale (1900:517) noted that resident Chinese men could marry either Malay or Siamese women, but with quite different cultural consequences: . . . the son of a Chinese father and a Malay mother often grows a pigtail and calls himself a Chinaman, his maternal relations scorning to recognise the son of a pig-eater as their kin; the son of a Chinese father and a Siamese mother just as often calls himself a Siamese, and attempts to lose sight of his paternal ancestry . . .

Today, as in the late nineteenth century, a Chinese may take a Malay wife, but he must be willing to convert to Islam, adopt a Malay-Muslim name, and, in most cases, take up residence in a predominantly Malay community. No longer is it possible for the offspring of such a mixed marriage to be raised as non-Muslims. What has not changed is the disjunctive nature of the rules for membership in these two ethnic categories. No person can ever be acceptable as a member of both the Malay and Chinese communities. Even among the primarily Malayspeaking Baba Chinese in Kelantan, there has never been any ambiguity as to which ethnic category they belong to. The Babas, like the local Thais, are highly assimilated to the surrounding Malay community in much of their behavior, except for their religious observance and dietary habits. But because they have resisted becoming Muslims, they cannot be considered Malay. Among Kelantanese Malay villagers, the terms for "Malay" and "Muslim" are used interchangeably in many contexts (for example, both masok Islam and masok Melayu mean "to convert to

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Islam"). This inseparability of Malay ethnic identity from adherence to the Muslim faith is a quite different phenomenon from, for example, the status afforded to Muslims in Thailand. There are no "MalayBuddhists" in Malaysia to correspond to Thailand's Thai-Muslims.10 In modern-day Kelantan, all Malays are subject to Islamic laws, which absolutely forbid them to adopt another religion. Apostasy is simply not tolerated by the Islamic courts and known offenders have been fined and even imprisoned." Non-Malay Kelantanese who choose to convert to Islam are likewise obliged to sever their ties with the institutions of the ethnic group from which they come. But what of those Chinese who have chosen to take Kelantanese Thai wives? In the preceding citation from Annandale, it would appear that, where Chinese married Thai women in areas under Thai political sovereignty, their children were likely to identify themselves as Thais. That may well have been the pattern in Kelantan prior to the Siamese cession of the state to the British in 1909. Even up to the present, there has been a tendency on the part of some rural Chinese men to marry into local Thai villages where their offspring are raised as Thais, albeit with Chinese surnames. Whole Chinese families have opted for incorporation into Thai communities in situations where Thai land was the only land they could legally purchase. Other isolated households have preferred to associate themselves with Thai settlements because they felt less self-conscious in the midst of other non-Malays, especially if they wished to raise and eat pigs or pursue other traditional Chinese activities which might be offensive to Muslim neighbors. In fact, by taking Thai wives, the rural Chinese have been assured of the freedom to retain some of the elements of their culture which they most highly value. I would suggest that in twentieth-century Kelantan, the rural Chinese have helped to preserve their separate, non-Malay ethnic identity by affiliating themselves with the local Thais. Taking a Thai wife has seldom entailed formal renunciation of one's Chinese customs or beliefs. Thai-Chinese children in modern Kelantan have been perfectly free to identify with both of their parental traditions without any particular pressure to choose between them. More often, it has been the place of residence that has determined with which of the two groups children identify more strongly. The inevitable tendency, however, is for children to acquire the language of their mothers, regardless of the community's preference for a particular ethnic identification. This matrilineal legacy undoubtedly accounts for the existence of certain rural Chinese communities in Kelantan (for example, Kampong Cina) where a high percentage of the inhabitants are conversant in the local Thai dialect even though they identify themselves culturally as Chinese. The offspring of Siam Village women and their Chinese husbands tend to have facility

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in both spoken languages but literacy only in Chinese (as well as Malay). In much the same way that the Kelantanese Thai language has penetrated certain segments of rural Chinese society, Thai Buddhism must have spread, at least initially, by way of the Thai wives of Chinese settlers. It is probably valid to theorize that the early Chinese in Kelantan chose Thai women as wives partly because of the greater cultural similarities between the Thais and Chinese. Certainly there were fewer potential sources of conflict. The overall sociopolitical alliance between the two groups in recent years (see, for example, Kershaw, 1973) has been strengthened by the fact that they share the same status as rather powerless minority groups in an overwhelmingly (92 percent) Malay state. It is a basic tenet of group-conflict theory that weak minority groups show greater hostility toward a dominant and powerful majority group than toward each other (see, for example, LeVine and Campbell, 1972:40). This generalization proves especially sound in a society like that of Kelantan in which the majority (Malay) group is unified through campaigns that emphasize its separate identity and interests (Ratnam, 1969:361). Aggressive anti-non-Malay rhetoric employed by highly politicized parts of Kelantan's Islamic community has helped to further polarize the Malay and non-Malay segments of the population. Government programs for economic development have emphasized the creation of more employment opportunities and better education for Malays, while practically ignoring the plight of such less prosperous non-Malay groups as the Thais and some rural Chinese. As a consequence, the latter two groups have been obliged to turn to the urban Chinese for political guidance and employment opportunities where Malay villagers might count on the leadership and assistance of the growing Malay bureaucratic elite in Kota Bharu and smaller towns. A survey conducted among Melayu and Siam Villagers regarding their aspirations for their sons' careers revealed that occupational preferences varied along ethnic lines.12 A large portion of the respondents from both groups stated that they hoped their sons would be agriculturalists like themselves.13 But among the minority who envisioned greater social mobility for their children, there were rather striking differences between Malay and Thai ambitions, reflecting not only their recognition of the sociopolitical realities but also some basic differences in cultural values. On the one hand, outward-oriented Malay villagers chose careers mostly in politics and government bureaucracy for their offspring. Thais, on the other hand, were inclined to favor commercial pursuits for their sons. Only a couple of Malay respondents considered careers in business, and no Thais mentioned careers in government service except for teaching. Teaching was a moderately popular response for both groups. Thais mentioned medicine more often, while only Malays considered law. The

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results of this survey suggest that Malay villagers aspire to social positions now occupied by members of the Malay elite, whereas Thai villagers have adopted urban Chinese as their models of occupational success. Unlike in Thailand, where rural Thais aspire to white- collar bureaucratic positions, Kelantan's Thai villagers have neither the urban Thai models nor the visible employment opportunities that could nurture such amibitions. Far more accessible and familiar are successful merchants' roles such as those occupied by well-to-do Chinese in-laws or temple patrons. In recent decades, Siam Villagers have become increasingly receptive to all sorts of Chinese influences. It was Chinese in-laws who constructed the first concrete latrines and the first paved kitchen floors in Thai houses. The two sundries stores owned by Siam Villagers in 1974 were both initially underwritten and set up under the supervision of Chinese in-laws. Several Thai households have begun experimenting with new varieties of vegetable crops (such as bitter melons, peanuts, and mushrooms) introduced by Chinese friends and relatives. Without doubt the most significant Chinese innovation thus far in Siam Village, the introduction of commercial tobacco cultivation, was in the offing as of late 1974. At that time, a Chinese tobacco company in a neighboring town began negotiating with the Siam Villagers for a contract. They would provide a new variety of seeds and all necessary supplies and know-how in return for the villagers' labor. As I indicated in chapter 1, concerned Siam Village voters consult knowledgeable Chinese friends for advice on how to cast their ballots. Although the Thais' closest friends among the Chinese are usually humble country folk like themselves, Siam Villagers nonetheless enjoy access to the political influence of certain well-known urban Chinese merchants. In cases where the sponsorship of a highranking official is required, as, for instance, when a villager applies for a passport, the Thai applicant will approach a prominent Chinese who has been decorated by the Kelantanese sultan, but almost never a comparable Malay figure. The Chinese dignitary is more easily appealed to through a network of Chinese friends and in-laws. Finally, jewelry and other valuable items are purchased in Chinese rather than Malay-owned shops despite the recognition on the part of the Thais that the Chinese are the craftiest merchants. A cursory investigation in twenty-seven Kelantanese Thai settlements turned up a total of twenty-nine Thais (all men) who had been employed at one time or another by the national or state governments. Twelve of these jobs had to do with teaching: there were four secondary school teachers, and eight teachers on the elementary level—some of whom only taught village night-school classes. The second largest group (ten men) included unskilled personnel working in hospitals or clinics, or as gardeners and caretakers for schools or government offices. Three were

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low-level clerical workers for government departments. The remaining four men were either soldiers of officials in the Customs Department, a department of the Ministry of Education, and an agricultural development office. Many of these men were from Thai-Chinese rather than purely Thai households. Most were also drawn from, and employed in, districts adjacent to the border with Thailand where Thais constitute a larger percentage of the population. For someone familiar with only the outlying Thai villages like Siam Village, these numbers seem surprisingly large. Only one Siam Villager has even been on the government payroll, and he is only a part-time teacher. Nevertheless, twenty-nine men out of a population of over seven thousand local Thais is hardly an impressive representation. More telling still is the fact that not a single Thai villager could be found who had ever been employed by a private Malay-owned firm. Yet, at least in Siam Village, the rate of unemployment among adult males was considerably lower than that for neighboring Melayu Villagers. Unemployment has been a chronic problem among Kelantanese Malays even though their educational and employment prospects have been enhanced in recent years by government-sponsored developmental programs. As many as fifteen Melayu Villagers have held government jobs as primary and secondary school teachers, clerks in government offices, soldiers, policemen, and religious officials. Some others have been employed as laborers or clerks by Malay and Chinese firms. But among the uneducated and the unskilled, the chances for regular outside employment remain relatively poor. Their Thai neighbors, as we shall see, have had better luck in obtaining positions as unskilled workers, thanks to their contacts with the Chinese community via the village temple. The Chinese-supported Thai Buddhist monkhood also provides a livelihood for about 5 percent of Kelantan's Thai men at any one point in time. In chapter 2 we saw how Siam Village long ago reached the point where its population exceeded the carrying capacity of its traditional agricultural econiche. For a while, villagers were able to forestall economic crises through emigration. Extralocal sources of income—in the form of magicians' fees, Chinese donations to the temple, and profits from services to deviant outsiders—have also helped to sustain the village economy. However, the ultimate solutions to the problems of overpopulation and underemployment are emerging in the arena of Thai- Chinese relations. On the one hand, Thais are receiving jobs with Chinese firms that enable them to support families still living in Siam Village. On the other hand, Chinese (and Indian) men are marrying Thai women and taking them to set up households in the towns. It is only relatively recently that Siam Village men have accepted regular employment outside the village. No one in the village over fifty

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has ever done so. It is the younger men who now turn to wage labor in their late teens, unless they are needed at home to assist elderly parents in the agricultural chores. Almost all of them return to their village for a year or two to serve as monks and then resume their careers outside. In the past few years it has not been difficult for Thai men who wanted a job to find one. Chinese employers in Kota Bharu and smaller towns actually prefer Thai workers over Malay workers. The Kelantanese Thais enjoy a reputation for being responsible and trustworthy employees. Both Chinese and Indian employers frequently visit Thai villages in search of additional employees. For the most part, the jobs involve heavy labor, as in construction and delivery work, or menial tasks, as in restaurant or hotel service. For the Chinese employer, it is often convenient to hire workers who are willing to take their meals and sleep at their place of employment. Malays usually decline to do so because of differences in their dietary laws. There are instances, too, of Thai boys becoming adopted members of urban Chinese or Indian households. These youths are absorbed into businesses where they develop some expertise and enjoy the patronage of their employers, who see to it that they acquire some education and marry properly. In the last few years, several Siam Villagers, both men and women, have been employed by Chinese irrigation firms constructing canals in nearby areas. As many as fourteen Siam Villagers have been known to join such a project for periods of two or three years. Such work is steady, but the wages are low for all but the skilled workers (for example, carpenters) among them. Still, Thais are often given preference by these firms whereas Malay applicants are granted special status in hiring for government-run projects. Four Siam Villagers have also been employed on Chinese rubber estates as guards and tappers. Thai girls are also quite popular as servants in urban Chinese households. They are usually recruited when they are very young, perhaps ten or twelve years old. Many remain in the homes of their Chinese or Indian employers for as long as ten years, or until they marry. While there, they earn adequate wages and are given room and board. They often become well-versed in Chinese language and culture, and are particularly likely to marry Chinese acquaintances of their foster families. Chinese families in Kota Bharu used to remark to me that they preferred Thai servants to rural Chinese because they were more humble and obedient. Malay servant girls seldom agree to live in Chinese households; they are also customarily forbidden to leave their homes while still young, unless they are to live with relatives. It is quite common, however, for well-to-do urban Malay families to employ or adopt one or more rural Malay servant girls. Since there are more urban than rural Chinese in Kelantan, Thai village girls perform a function that might otherwise be performed by

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rural Chinese girls. Kelantanese Thais, in general, are coming to share more and more of the functions of the working-class Chinese. The adoption of Thai girls by outside Chinese serves the Thai village insofar as it reduces economic pressures on impoverished families with too many children. At the age of ten and older, boys can be entrusted to the care of the temple staff to be supervised as temple boys. No comparable institution exists for girls. Even within the village, almost every adopted child is a girl. These girls, too, are expected to perform the major household chores. The adoption of young Thai boys by outsiders is comparatively rare. Before discussing interethnic marriage patterns, mention should be made of one other way in which local Chinese help to alleviate the population pressures on Thai land. I recorded several instances of Chinese landowners permitting Thai villagers to use their land free to grow such crops as peanuts, corn, and melons. In most cases, the land to be used was located between rows of rubber or coconut trees on estates. This was clearly a symbiotic arrangement, for the Thai crops enriched the soil in some cases (peanuts, beans) and protected the land against erosion by providing ground cover. Two Siam Villagers were also granted privileges to graze their cattle on fallow Chinese land several miles from the village. Let us now investigate the circumstances which have led to frequent intermarriage between Kelantanese Thai women and Chinese men. Near the beginning of this section, I noted that Chinese women were late in arriving in Kelantan. Even after they began immigrating with their menfolk, there was never any possibility that their numbers would equal those of male Chinese immigrants. In both Kelantan's Chinese and Indian communities, this imbalance has persisted until today despite occasional conversions to Islam and marriage with Malays, especially on the part of Hindu Indians. According to the 1970 Malaysian government census, there were over 9 percent more Chinese men than Chinese women (19,174 to 17,494) and over 32 percent more Indian men than Indian women (3,034 to 2,298) in Kelantan. The implications of this imbalance are obvious regarding its effect on other non-Muslim communities in the area. For all practical purposes, the Thais are the other non-Muslims. A large portion of the Chinese and Indians of Kelantan have settled in the towns where they have become rather prosperous in comparison to the majority of Kelantan's Thai agriculturalists. Among these three groups there are relatively few cultural differences that might generate serious animosities. On the contrary, there seem to be ample opportunities for them to emphasize their cultural similarities against the backdrop of orthodox Malay-Muslim society. Thus, one commonly finds these groups allied politically, mixing socially, and intermarrying rather freely. Among the Chinese and Indian men whom I interviewed in Kota Bha-

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ru, I found very positive attitudes toward Thai women as wives.14 They generally considered Thai women to be competent housewives and mothers, who were both humble and thrifty, and less divorce-prone than Malay women. Communication was seldom a problem since almost all young Kelantanese are fluent speakers of the local Malay dialect. Local Thais do not require suitors to register their marriages or divorces. Only the informal consent of the wife's parents is obligatory. Thai parents say that they would prefer that their daughters marry their own kind; but on the other hand, they recognize the economic advantages of marrying Chinese and Indians. Nor do the Thais demand that their grandchildren be raised as Buddhists. Outgroup spouses are at liberty to establish households with their brides wherever they choose. A mixed couple may even undergo two separate wedding ceremonies—one of each ethnic tradition—at the two parental homes. Single women among the local Thais are freer to mix with outgroup men than, say, Malay women are. They often do a fair amount of traveling, attending local fairs in groups, shopping in the urban markets, and just visiting friends. They are also apt to have considerable experience with outgroup people owing to their employment in Chinese and Indian households or firms. Finally, it should be added that many of them marry rather late, given the lack of intense social pressure for marriage as is found among Malays. Many potential spouses among the Thais may also be committed to the monkhood, or, just as serious, without property on which to establish a household. In short, Thai women are both accessible and, in many cases, available specifically to non-Malay outgroup suitors. A brief look at the following Siam Village marriage statistics will reveal the frequency of interethnic marital unions and parallel developments in Thai residence patterns. In all of Kelantan, I was able to trace thirty-seven married Thai women, thirty-five years of age or younger, who were born in Siam Village. Of that group, twelve married Siam Village men (including two local Chinese) and settled in their native village. Two others took husbands (one Thai and one Chinese) from other villages and settled in Siam Village. Nine of the women married Thai men from other Thai villages and went to live in their husbands' villages. Nine married outside Chinese and left to join their spouses at the latter's place of employment. Finally, five chose Indian husbands with whom they already had, or soon would, set up households elsewhere. A total of seventeen (45.9 percent) married outgroup suitors (Chinese or Indians; no Malays) of which fourteen (37.8 percent) took up residence elsewhere. The remaining twenty (54.1 percent) took Thai husbands. Of these, eleven (29.8 percent) continued to live in Siam Village and nine (24.3 percent) settled outside, in their husbands' villages.

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Therefore, only fourteen (37.8 percent) of the thirty-seven remained as Siam Village residents after marriage. At least in this age group, over three-fifths of the women who were marrying were marrying out. I have no figures for Siam Village men in this age group, but among male household heads, only six of thirty-eight (or 15.8 percent) were nonnatives who had married into the village. Two of these were rural Chinese. Among women (older and younger than thirty-five) who were household heads or wives of male household heads, sixteen of thirtyseven (43.2 percent) were originally natives of other villages and had married in. These figures suggest that Kelantanese Thai society is ambilocal but with strong virilocal tendencies in intervillage marriages. Since more and more Thai women are now leaving their villages after marrying outgroup men, there is far less pressure on Thai men to emigrate, although they must often seek wives elsewhere. Finding Thai wives is becoming increasingly difficult for these men. Nor are they in an economic position to compete with Chinese men for Chinese women. Only one Siam Village man has married a rural Chinese girl, and he is exceptional insofar as he was adopted by an Indian merchant's family in Kota Bharu. One interesting consequence of the shortage of available Thai women is the readiness with which older Thai bachelors are marrying Thai women who have been divorced from Chinese spouses. There are now three such couples in Siam Village. The rather large number of Indian-Thai marriages in Siam Village is atypical and should be explained here. Three of the Indian men who have taken Siam Villagers as wives were employed as surveyors and machinists on a nearby irrigation project some years ago. One of the Thai brides was also an employee for the same Chinese construction firm. By the time the first couple had decided to get married, they had introduced several of their friends to each other. Three of the Indian men married Siam Village women, and one or two others still visit the village occasionally with their married companions hoping to find a wife among the remaining village maidens. The fourth Indian husband, a factory superintendent, met his wife on a visit to the temple in search of charms blessed by the abbot. He, his wife, and their five children now live in Johore Bharu, but continue to visit Siam Village at least once a year. The fifth man was a clerk working in the same Indian textiles shop as a Siam Village youth. Partly because three of these men are not natives of Kelantan, they and their wives have spent long periods of time living in the households of their Thai in-laws. However, all have now set up their own households close to their places of employment. All of the couples have children who spend quite a lot of time at the Thai village when their mothers return to visit their families. Like the Thai women with urban Chinese husbands, these women make frequent trips to their native village, where they normally

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remain with their children for as long as two weeks in the homes of their parents. These Indian-Thai families observe both Buddhist and Hindu practices and visit the temples of both religions. Four of the five Indian spouses were briefly ordained as Buddhist monks either before or shortly after taking their Thai brides. This gesture was intended to win the respect and/or consent of their parents-in-law. Through their Chinese and Indian sons-in-law and brothers-in-law, Siam Villagers have been exposed to a much broader picture of the world around them. Not only have the villagers been introduced to new foods and customs, but, in several instances, they have been induced to accompany outgroup in-laws on trips to such distant places as Singapore, Penang, and Kuala Lumpur—places that they would never have seen otherwise. The homes of mixed couples who live in Kota Bharu have become pieds-à-terre for villagers traveling through or staying over in town. These satellites of rural society within an urban setting enable villagers to take advantage of entertainment and medical services which were formerly inaccessible because of inadequate transportation facilities.15 Prosperous Chinese-Thai couples also employ rural Thai girls as servants and provide badly needed housing for those Thai youths who are fortunate enough to continue their education in urban schools. Siam Villagers knew of no all-Thai households in Kota Bharu as of 1974. Any discussion of marriages between Siam Villagers and members of other ethnic categories must not exclude some mention of Thai-Malay marital ties. Such unions were once fairly common in Kelantan, though they have become quite rare in recent years." The increasing difficulty that local Thai men are now experiencing in finding Thai wives may eventually lead to an upsurge in the numbers of Thai-Malay marriages. Culturally and racially, the Thais and Malays of Kelantan are very similar. There appears to be little opposition on the part of neighboring Malays to a Thai man who embraces Islam, marries a Malay woman, and takes up residence in his wife's village. Melayu Villagers, for example, are not only tolerant of non-Malay men who take Malay wives, but actually encourage many to do so, so long as they are willing to become Muslims and the women they choose are divorcées. In marrying a Malay woman, a Thai man frequently acquires the right to cultivate land owned by his wife, and he may rest assured that their offspring will have some land to inherit. In the last forty years there have been six Thai-Malay unions involving Siam Villagers. The youngest of the Siam Villagers in this group was over forty years of age at the time of this study. Although one would expect to find mostly Thai men marrying Malay women, only three of the six ThaiMalay marriages were of this type: an equal number of Thais from each sex have married Malays. Nevertheless, Siam Villagers insist that it is

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much more typical for a Thai man to marry a Malay woman. In fact, they estimate that four out of five Thai-Malay marriages are of that variety. Two characteristics shared by all six of the preceding unions are worthy of special attention. First, the women in every case, whether Malay or Thai, were always divorcées and usually older than twenty-five. The men were either divorcés or older bachelors. Neither Thai nor Malay men are likely to marry maidens of the other category. Parentally arranged marriages of this type are practically unheard of, and, as we shall see, there are few opportunities for romantic attachments to develop between maidens of one group and men of the other. Such interaction is highly restricted. Thai men, too, seem rather wary about becoming involved with Malay anak dara, or maidens, even when the latter take the initiative.17 Divorcées of both groups, on the other hand, are freer to mix socially with outgroup men. All such Thai-Malay unions have been stripped of ceremony and played down in importance. The second peculiarity of these interethnic marriages is spatial in nature, namely, that the two spouses almost invariably stem from rather widely separated villages. Only one of the six couples settled within three miles of Siam Village. The implications of this intermarriage pattern are significant for our study of the maintenance of ethnic boundaries. Marriage between members of the Malay and Thai ethnic categories is permissible, but no such unions have occurred between members of the adjacent ethnic communities. Cole and Wolf (1974:259) have identified a comparable situation among the German and Romance speakers of the Austro-Italian frontier. They imply that spouses from contiguous ethnic communities would have considerable difficulty reconciling their marital roles with their roles as members of culturally contraposed villages. Partners from distant communities, they conclude, do not actually "cross" the symbolic boundary lines between adjacent settlements. Thais are seldom enthusiastic about their womenfolk marrying nonThais, but in the case of Thai-Malay marriage, there are elements of embarrassment and dissatisfaction to be found as well. It was only after considerable persistence that I was able to obtain information about those Siam Villagers who had married Malays. Many Thai villagers seemed to have selectively forgotten those individuals who had, for all intents and purposes, relinquished their Thai identity to become the spouses of Malays. Like those Chinese who marry Malays, Thais, too, are compelled to leave their village and sever many of the bonds which they formerly cultivated with the greater Thai community. As Freedman (1955:411) has indicated for the Chinese and "native" peoples of Indonesia, intermarriage need not " . . . form a bridge from one subsociety to another." Like their Chinese neighbors, Thais remain a category

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wholly distinct from their Malay neighbors, even though numerous ThaiMalay marriages have occurred in the past. The frequency of the patrilineal prefix " C h e " before the Muslim names of many rural Kelantanese Malays attests to the high rate of Thai-Malay intermarriage. Converts to Islam from other ethnic groups, specifically Thais, have traditionally adopted this prefix along with their new Malay-Muslim name when marrying into the Malay community. Children then inherit it from their fathers." The formation of a hybrid sociocultural identity has been hindered by the unwritten requirement that Thai converts to Islam settle in Malay communities, where they can lead more reverent lives. The children of such mixed couples seldom grow up speaking much Thai, even when the Thai parent is the mother. Nor would it be particularly advantageous for these children to acquire bicultural skills, for they would then invite the derision of their Malay age-mates. Unlike the Thai wives of Chinese and Indians, who return frequently to Siam Village to visit their relatives, the Thai spouses of Malays reappear very seldom in their native villages. Nor are they apt to bring their families with them. They are much more likely to summon a few Thai relatives to feasts at their new homes. Siam Villagers tend to dismiss Thai-Malay marriages as undesirable but pragmatic alliances. They point out that in some cases the Thai spouse had no other alternatives for marriage. In two instances, Thai women are said to have simply run off with Malay men in a very irresponsible fashion. In other known cases, deviance and even madness have been attributed to Thai apostates. Intermarriage with Malays, though it, too, reduces the population pressures on the Thai community, is nonetheless interpreted as a threat to the Thai way of life. Interaction between unmarried Siam and Melayu Village youths of different sexes is extremely limited, even in the schools. Thai and Malay boys and girls live in close proximity to one another for years without apparently ever considering each other as potential mates. Mutual avoidance is the obvious response to underlying tensions and temptations. Siam Villagers deny that there have ever been any incidents in which competition has arisen between neighboring Malay and Thai youths for the hand of a maiden. Such rivalries, they stress, would only create jealousy and ill-feelings that could jeopardize the congenial but delicate relations which they now endeavor to maintain with their Malay neighbors. Nor do men from surrounding Malay villages risk involvement with Thai women, aside from lighthearted gambling or trading with the more liberated married women of Siam Village. Intervillage harmony is at a premium; without it, the elaborately interwoven economies of Siam and Melayu Villages could hardly function in this mutually beneficial manner.

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CONCLUSION TO PART I I

There has been little that Siam Villagers could do to ward off the decline of their traditional agricultural economy. Reductions in their land holdings and in their rights to acquire new land have been serious impediments to any purely agricultural strategy for economic adaptation in the face of growing population pressures. One course of action, the emigration of the village's young men and their families, has proven only partially acceptable, for it entails the wide dispersal of kinsmen and the attenuation of ties between them. Rather than yielding to pressures for village disintegration, Siam Villagers have managed to preserve the integrity of their community by tapping heretofore unrecognized sources of income in the surrounding sociocultural landscape. Over the years, like an amoeba with many long pseudopods, the Siam Village economy has differentiated in response to the specific needs of other ethnic groups scattered throughout an extensive area of the Kelantan Plain. The economic success of the Siam Villagers in their roles as magicians, hunters, religious specialists, or hosts for deviant outsiders has depended heavily upon an effective communications network and the accentuation of specific traits of a carefully guarded ethnic image. The socioeconomic adaptation of Siam Village has been remarkable for several reasons. For one thing, the village's economic survival has hinged on the performance of an unusual variety of services for a widely dispersed clientele. To reach potential clients in distant places, it has been necessary to cultivate the goodwill of outgroup villagers in neighboring communities who then volunteer to serve as communications links on the Thais' behalf. By assuming complementary rather than competitive economic roles vis-à-vis their agriculturalist Malay neighbors, the Siam Villagers have avoided being branded as economic menaces; by providing generous commissions for non-Thai intermediaries, they have encouraged further cooperation from them; by maintaining strict confidentiality, they have earned the trust of clients and intermediaries in matters involving possible violations of Malay moral codes. Only with skillful diplomacy has such a diffuse economic niche as that of the Siam Villagers been successfully exploited. Equally impressive have been the subtle ways in which the Siam Villagers have achieved access to previously unexploited resources. The indirect reciprocation which obtains between Siam Villagers and Malay boar hunters, for instance, is an elegant symbiotic arrangement wherein Thais receive large quantities of meat that would otherwise go uneaten, while Malays profit from meat they dare not sell. The success that Thai villagers have enjoyed in the role of religious specialists for the Chinese partly has been due to their pragmatic willingness to expose themselves to

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potentially dangerous spirits while serving as morticians. Here, too, there is little competition from members of other ethnic groups. Nor are Siam Villagers deterred in this line of employment by the fact that they must often participate in non-Buddhist ceremonies. Acceptance of a wide variety of such marginally desirable roles has greatly enhanced the Siam Villagers' visibility, and consequently improved their employment and marriage opportunities. Relations with Chinese employers and in-laws, in turn, have created new promise for Thai upward mobility where traditional channels have been closed off. Although the Siam Villagers are but a tiny minority in a predominantly Malay countryside, their reputation is disproportionate to their numbers. The renowned abbot has attracted considerable attention to the enclave, as have the elaborate temple fairs with their colorful manooraa and shadow puppet performances. The specialization of Siam Village agriculture—namely, the cultivation of noncommercial tobacco and vegetables —has greatly intensified the interaction of the Thai villagers with neighboring communities. Commercial transactions between Siam Village and surrounding Malay villages are much more common than transactions between neighboring Malay villages. And, of course, the village's status as a shelter from Malay socioreligious constraints has contributed to its conspicuousness. In Part Three I shall outline additional ways in which Siam Villagers emphasize their cultural distinctiveness and thereby direct a more intense spotlight onto themselves as suppliers of unique services. As we have observed, the full cooperation of all villagers is crucial in promoting a respectable ethnic image and magnifying its effect. For instance, great care is taken by all Siam Villagers to preserve the local stereotypes of Thais as powerful magicians. Doubts that Thai Villagers harbor about their capacities to live up to such stereotyped images are never disclosed during interaction with outsiders although they are a regular feature of intra village gossip. The Thai village as a whole also cooperates to check the leakage of confidential information about clients and to avoid entanglements with authorities. In their own eyes, as well as in the eyes of their outgroup neighbors, Siam Villagers are "Thais" first and only incidentally "Siam Villagers." In chapter 1,1 attempted to demonstrate how identification with the village community stems from shared responsibility for the welfare of the village temple. The Thai-Buddhist institutions of Kelantan, along with shared language and mores, constitute a common cultural core with which all Kelantanese Thais strongly identify. But complementing these fundamental linguistic-religious-moral traditions are numerous cultural traits which evolve in response to local environmental conditions. These locally negotiable, "microcultural" traits are not always distinguished from universal Kelantanese Thai traits by inhabitants of individual

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villages. All are deemed equally valid expressions of "Thai-ness." Thus, for example, Siam Villagers make merit at Buddhist temples and eat pork because they are "Thais." However, they have also persisted in growing noncommercial tobacco, rather than double-cropping, because they are "Thais." The latter assertion of their ethnicity is in total disregard of the fact that in other Kelantanese Thai villages people do, indeed, doublecrop their paddies and do not invariably cultivate tobacco. The confusion here is not merely linguistic, for in numerous cases Siam Villagers take for granted the universality of traits peculiar to their own community. Moerman (1965:1225) has hypothesized that members of small northern Thai ethnic communities such as the Lue village of Ban Ping would be able to distinguish themselves from other Thai groups on various taxonomic levels by identifying distinctive cultural criteria. To a certain extent, the Siam Villagers, too, are aware of salient cultural variations among Kelantan's Thai communities. Relative isolation, dialect, and adaptation to different terrains are among those traits most readily pointed out. But at least as many local cultural variations within the Thai ethnic category are apt to go unnoticed. Part Three will include a rather detailed discussion of the ethnic identity of the Siam Villagers, focusing first on those characteristics which unite the village culturally with the totality of Kelantanese Thai society. Then I will introduce a number of local behavioral peculiarities which have emerged while Siam Village has been adapting economically to its multiethnic environment. I will argue that the rationale behind the adoption or retention of certain seemingly counterproductive behavioral norms has been the symbolic reinforcement of Thai identity along a highly penetrable ethnic boundary. Previously described taboos, such as those on Thai-Malay intermarriage and the interethnic discussion of certain topics, will be further considered as local boundary-preservative phenomena. Finally, I will present evidence of profound assimilative processes which constitute the context within which to examine conscious attempts on the part of Siam Villagers to preserve their ethnic distinctiveness vis-à-vis their Malay neighbors.

Part III How Local Ethnic Boundaries Have Been Reinforced

CHAPTER 5

Communications among Kelantan's Scattered Thai Communities

FAIRS, FEASTS, AND CONTINUITY WITHIN THE T H A I E T H N I C CATEGORY

Given the relative isolation of such Kelantanese Thai settlements as Siam Village, contacts between inhabitants of these scattered communities are necessarily limited by constraints of time and money. Aside from the circulation of a few monks among the various temples and occasional sojourns of children at the homes of kinsmen, practically all intervillage social activities between Siam Villagers and outside Thais occur in conjunction with cyclical religious observances or ceremonies marking rites of passage. It is in the festive atmosphere of numerous temple fairs (ijaan wad) and a few household feasts (yaan ryn) that the typical villager briefly experiences the way of life in other Thai villages. Only rarely does an individual Siam Villager undertake a trip to another Thai village solely to transact some business or make a social call. However, on the day of a fair at a distant temple, carloads of villagers set off together to make merit there. In this chapter I will discuss the function of the rjaan, or " f o r m a l religious festivity," as an institution for promoting social and cultural cohesion among Kelantan's Thai villages. By the time they are twenty-five years old, most Siam Villagers have visited all of the other Kelantanese Thai villages with temple compounds. Seldom, however, are villagers acquainted with distant Thai settlements which lack temples. The exceptions are those settlements where relatives, manooraa contemporaries, or friends f r o m the monkhood reside. In those communities where Siam Villagers do attend temple fairs, they often have no close personal acquaintances. In many cases, it is curiosity and longing for excitement that attract villagers to distant fairs. Not uncommonly, their social interaction at such festivities is confined to those

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people within their own group and perhaps a few familiar visitors from other nonhosting villages. Thus, despite the large numbers of ljaan attenders, the actual social integration among Kelantan's Thai villages is only moderate. When asked why they wish to attend a tjaan in some other Thai community, Siam Villagers usually reply that they intend to "make merit" there. At each temple fair, visiting delegations from various villages present collective gifts of cash or goods to the monks of the host temple.1 The more devout pilgrims will also pass some time in ritual obeisance. For a few villagers, a particular fair may present an opportunity—and, in fact, an obligation—to renew friendships and/or reaffirm kin ties with inhabitants of the host village. This minority would receive food and shelter in the houses of their relatives or friends whenever they chose to visit them. But, overwhelmingly, they schedule their visits to coincide with major religious ceremonies—not unlike the American tradition of Christmas homecomings. For a large portion of the outside guests, those with no close social ties in the host village, activities are usually confined to the temple compound, where they are provided with food and with mats to sleep on. Those with few domestic responsibilities may remain at a temple for two or three days and nights. Some are momentarily attracted to shadow puppet or dance-drama performances, but, in general, the crowds of visitors spend most of their time sitting and chatting with other guests. Siam Villagers will typically claim a small territory in one host-temple building as their home base for the duration of a fair. Most of the Siam Villagers spend a large part of their stay in this area, playing cards, napping, or receiving visitors. Young people are somewhat more active. For young bachelors, these fairs may be the only opportunities to meet and court available young women. Unless a young man has relatives in a girl's village, or has served in the temple there, reconnaissance visits to her village may otherwise seem too awkward. During crowded fairs, however, young people can interact fairly inconspicuously amidst the throngs of unacquainted attenders. The social atmosphere of a large temple fair is comparable to that of a Thai urban center. Because practically all of Kelantan's Thais inhabit rural areas, they do not share their Malay neighbors' social and cultural orientation toward urban centers like the district capitals or the state capital at Kota Bharu. Malay villagers converge on the towns of Kelantan in great numbers during celebrations, like Hari Raya Puasa, which mark important ritual dates on the Islamic calendar. Many attend special services at the large urban mosques. Others come into town to mix with friends from other rural areas and to parade their new holiday attire. For Kelantan's rural Malays, Kota Bharu becomes a place to proudly display the symbols of their ethnicity: traditional Malay garments, 2 performing

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arts, and religious piety. For non-Malay villagers, especially Thais, Kelantan's urban centers offer principally commercial and entertainment attractions. On visits to these towns Siam Villagers play down cultural differences and behave in much the same way that Malays do while carrying out errands. If they converse in Thai, they do so quietly, and seldom during interactions with Malays. Nor are they accustomed to congregating in large numbers within the towns. Instead of using the towns as centers for supravillage social and cultural activities, Kelantan's Thais enthusiastically attend their temple fairs, where they momentarily convert the temple grounds into public squares and promenades for the greater Thai community. To increase the frequency of these gatherings, care is taken to schedule different local celebrations of the same Buddhist festival on different dates. Thus, for instance, the thixl kathin ceremonies, which may take place at any time between the full moon of the eleventh Thai lunar month and the full moon of the twelfth, are held in sequence at several temples during that period to permit some villagers to attend two or more celebrations. 3 Although the majority of the cyclical religious festivals fall within the fourth, fifth, and sixth months of the Buddhist calendar, other tjaan, like ordinations, abbots' birthday celebrations, and fund-raisers for construction projects, seem to be conveniently staggered throughout most of the year. During such fairs the temple compound serves as a temporary central place for people from scattered Thai villages to mix without incurring any social debts or obligations. In a sense, it provides a context for Kelantanese Thais to form "secondary" social relationships (see chapter 1) among themselves. Visitors are still hesitant about accosting Thai strangers, but their behavior alters noticeably owing to the ethnic composition of the gathering. People speak Thai freely and are less inhibited about raising their voices. The villager who puts on a Malay batik sport shirt to visit Kota Bharu is more likely to wear his Thai-style embroidered shirt from Chiengmai to a temple fair. 4 Within the temple compound, villagers are free to ignore Malay-Muslim dietary and drinking taboos. At least temporarily, participants shed much of the reticence that characterizes their behavior in predominantly Malay settings. Besides exposing Thai villagers to larger groups of their congeners, temple fairs in Kelantan enable these villagers to witness cultural events that are too large for most individual communities to stage on their own. In so doing, the supravillage religious festivals help preserve ancient Thai traditions which constitute an important part of the common cultural core of the Thai ethnic category. It is not so essential that delegations of visitors mix with their hosts, but their attendance and donations are crucial to the success of most fairs. Only when large turnouts are assured

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can organizers afford to import troupes of dancers or shadow puppet performers from Thailand. Even performances by local manooraa players call for considerable outside attendance. Interest in these traditional art forms has been waning for decades, ever since the introduction of motion pictures, television, and modern transportation facilities. Nonetheless, manooraa or shadow puppet productions remain an integral part of most temple fairs. Though guests are not inclined to devote more than a few minutes of their attention to such performances, 5 their aggregate interest and donations continue to make the shows possible. These performing arts seem to be appreciated less as entertainment nowadays but more as monuments to the Thai cultural heritage. Because large temple fairs are so successful in drawing Thai villagers from all over Kelantan, the Thai Buddhist Association of Kelantan has arranged on occasion to hold supravillage political meetings during fairs. In so doing, the leaders of the organization have encouraged participation by villagers who otherwise display apathy toward purely political gatherings. Mobilizing representatives from Kelantan's numerous Thai communities for participation in a statewide political organization requires the same kinds of appeals as mustering village volunteers to repair a road. Moreover, among the advertised goals of the association have been the facilitated acquisition of temple fair permits and legal counsel for monks detained at Malaysian-Thai border crossings. The frequency of attendance at outside temple fairs is by no means uniform for all adult Siam Villagers. A survey taken among the heads of households and their spouses revealed that married adult women are generally more regular attenders than their spouses or relatives. Among unmarried villagers, and especially youths, men and women are equally enthusiastic attenders. Once a Siam Village man is married and has assumed his full share of domestic responsibilities, he tends to spend much more of his time at home in his village except when he goes boar hunting or participates in a manooraa troupe. Since relatively few men have married into the village, the majority need not plan trips to visit their families of orientation. A large percentage of the women, however, are obliged to call on their kinsmen in their parental villages or meet them at fairs. Some men claim, too, that they are not free to leave for long periods because they are the only members of their households who can control their ill-tempered oxen. Most Siam Village men count among their friends at least a couple of Malay men with whom they gamble or hunt. 6 Thai women, on the other hand, rarely interact with Malay women for any length of time except when selling produce at the market. Siam Village women, then, rely heavily on outside Thai women for companionship, be they relatives or lifelong friends. Since temple and household fairs are naturally the best occasions for mixing with groups

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of outside Thai friends, it is not surprising to find that Siam Village wives collectively attend almost twice as many fairs as their husbands. The wives sampled averaged over four fairs per year while their husbands averaged about two. The continued mobility of these women may help explain the fact that they are also more adventurous long-distance travelers than their menfolk. Career monks aside, many more Siam Village women than men have been to faraway places like Bangkok and Chiengmai.' I wish to emphasize here that, at least in the case of Siam Village, it is primarily the married women among the laity who maintain steady communications between different Thai communities,' and this they do by faithfully attending fairs. Unlike temple fairs, the organization of which depends on communitywide cooperation, the household feast is a smaller and less elaborate affair requiring the assistance of only close friends and relatives.' I refer to these gatherings as feasts for, regardless of the event which is being commemorated, the social climax of the ceremonies is always the feasting. As a rule, these festivities mark rites of passage in the lives of household members: for example, weddings, housewarmings, funerals, memorial services honoring the ashes of the deceased, celebrations of recent births (ritual expressions of gratitude to the midwives), or celebrations following the recovery of a very ill villager. Strict rules of reciprocity operate between hosts and guests to alleviate the financial burden on the hosts and to reaffirm existing kin and friendship loyalties. Customarily the hosting household summons the households of kinsmen and friends in various Thai or Chinese villages to come and take part in a feast. Attendance by at least one member of each of the invited households is practically mandatory. Failure to respond to such invitations may terminate existing relations (tad mid kan) if no valid excuses are offered by the offenders. The hosts of a feast arrange to have livestock slaughtered to feed an anticipated number of guests. The consumption of the proffered food, and especially those dishes with meat, is of foremost ritual importance. Many guests are not obliged to attend the religious ceremonies during weddings or housewarmings, but each household should be represented at the subsequent feasts. Even when the food is of inferior quality, guests are expected to eat with gusto. Where cooking facilities cannot accommodate more than a few guests at a time, people are seen filing in and out for several hours, staying only long enough to eat and make a contribution. Albeit hosts are not supposed to reap profits from such festivities, they normally count on contributions from their guests to help defray the cost of the food. Sudden storms or other unforeseen complications can spell serious financial losses for unfortunate hosts. Friends or relatives who are unable to attend often send along cash contributions with other

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representatives from their households or villages. Absentee contributions may be somewhat smaller if no food is consumed by the contributor's household. Those who volunteer their services and/or provide a part of the meat to be served are not obliged to give cash as well. Outside relatives commonly contribute boar and tapir meat to Siam Villagers' feasts, notifying the host in advance. Although guests are encouraged to make cash contributions at both temple fairs and household feasts, villagers assign very different meanings to the two types of donations. Money presented to monks at a fair or designated for funeral expenses is classified as bun, or "merit." Cash gifts received by hosts at feasts are referred to as khaa kin ktty, or, roughly, "payment for food eaten.'" 0 There are no social pressures influencing the amount of "merit" money that one should donate. This calculation is left to the conscience of each contributor. Those who have more usually give more, while the poor contribute what little they can. Merit donations are personal matters and are seldom discussed by villagers, save when a wealthy outsider makes an exceptional contribution. Feast payments, on the other hand, are often presented rather openly and, in many cases, are actually recorded in ledgers. The latter custom is somewhat more common among the wealthier hosts, especially the Chinese." These figures are used subsequently in reckoning how much the hosts should contribute when they attend future feasts sponsored by their guests. The unwritten law dictates that past contributions should at least be matched if not exceeded. Arriving at a decision as to what is the proper amount to give also entails such considerations as: the number of participants a family sends, the number of times they eat, the relative prosperity of the guests and hosts, and the quality and quantity of the food and entertainment. Because villagers enjoy keeping tabs on the accounts of their hosts (speculating how much loss or profit a feast will bring is great sport), the contributions of individuals regularly become subjects of discussion. Failure to reciprocate generously leads to rumblings of suspicion regarding the motives of the deviant attender. Participation in a large number of reciprocal feasting relationships of this sort is clearly infeasible for less well-to-do households. Inability or unwillingness to reciprocate properly leads to unpleasant tensions and even avoidance behavior between households. Some Siam Villagers report that they may choose not to attend a feast when they lack sufficient cash to make a fitting contribution. Formerly, it was permissible to bring goods like rice or tobacco in place of cash, but nowadays such payments in kind are liable to create embarrassment. In the long run, those Siam Villagers recognized as impoverished—mostly those with purely agricultural sources of income—have been excluded from regular attendance at intervillage feasts outside their own community. 12 For

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some, the high cost of transportation prohibits frequent attendance at outside temple fairs as well.13 Besides the poor, there are a few comfortable but reclusive households who do not attend simply because they prefer not to cultivate intervillage social ties. Much can be learned about the supravillage social organization of the Kelantanese Thai community by studying the attendance at fairs and feasts. Aside from the circulatiop of monks and temple boys among the various temples, most intervillage social interaction is channeled by tradition into the contexts defined by these festive events. Different groups of villagers attend for different reasons. Naturally, all participants crave some excitement to punctuate the doldrums of their everyday lives. But towns like Kota Bharu offer more popular amusements, especially for youthful villagers. The yearly cycle of fairs and feasts, then, is not so much an entertainment calendar as a communications lifeline linking scattered villages which lack significant political or economic14 ties. During these festivities intervillage kinship and friendship bonds are born and nourished in a cultural setting which is emphatically Thai. One category of Siam Villagers, namely, certain prosperous women and their husbands, far surpass all of their neighbors in the frequency of their fair and feast attendance. Many of these heavy attenders are also regular participants at the mahjong shed. Their financial security and abundant time for leisure afford them plentiful opportunities to socialize with outsiders of all ethnic groups. Members of this small "cosmopolitan" stratum of village society are unquestionably the most knowledgeable about the lifestyles of Thai and Chinese people elsewhere. As a group, they have more Chinese and Indian sons-in-law than do other Siam Villagers. Their outward orientation is reflected in the concern they exhibit for the formal schooling of their offspring and the readiness with which they adopt innovations. Most other Siam Villagers rely on this handful of cosmopolitan couples (along with two or three monks) as major sources of news about the outside Thai community. But not only do they serve as conduits for information from the outside; they also relay messages and contributions on behalf of their less footloose fellow villagers. Via these messengers, many villagers are able to maintain fairly continuous contact with friends whom they normally meet only once every two or three years. It is during fairs and feasts, when messengers from different villages meet, that the flow of intervillage communications is most intense. The large numbers of kinship and friendship relations which Siam Villagers recognize to exist between themselves and members of other Thai parishes would suggest considerable sustained social interaction among Kelantanese Thai communities. This, however, is not the case. Only a small fraction of the villagers actually meet with particular out-

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side Thai friends and relatives more than once or twice a year. 15 People who speak of one another as being "intimate" (satiid) friends may pass two or three years without reunions, although they manage to keep in touch with each other by way of intermediaries. Many Siam Villagers interact with Malay hunting and gambling companions on a much more regular basis than they do with outside Thai associates. What little intervillage commerce there is among Thais, is most conveniently transacted during social reunions at temple fairs. Despite the unique opportunities that temple fairs provide for intervillage integration only a small minority of the guests spend any time outside the confines of the temple compounds. Then, too, it is not uncommon for a villager from village X to encounter a friend from village Y mostly at fairs in villages other than X or Y . Under such circumstances people may not directly experience the on-going way of life in each other's communities. Time and again, when Siam Village friends accompanied me on tours of other Kelantanese Thai settlements, they would make new discoveries about intervillage contrasts in agricultural technology, dietary habits, or social organization." Usually they had visited these same villages earlier, but only as guests during fairs. In the company of a foreign investigator, they could take greater liberties in entering residential or agricultural areas of unfamiliar villages; and in so doing, they became increasingly sensitized to the cultural and behavioral heterogeneity within their own ethnic category. Interviews with adult Siam Villagers predictably revealed that the more "cosmopolitan" group possessed a much more thorough knowledge of cultural contrasts to be discerned among the various Thai communities. Less mobile and/or less outward-oriented respondents, however, recognized few distinctions between communities and were inclined to perceive local (Siam Village) cultural peculiarities as occurring universally among Thais. I would argue, indeed, that the very limitedness of the picture which most Siam Villagers ever obtain of other Thai communities is an important factor in allowing them greater freedom in defining their own localized ethnic image. In this chapter it has been my contention that temple fairs provide unique opportunities for Siam Villagers to interact with outside Thais as fellow members of an otherwise rather amorphous sociocultural category. As settings for supravillage social and cultural activities, the fairs emphasize common traditions with which all Kelantanese Thais can identify. Moreover, by offering only a very selective exposure to the way of life in host communities, the fairs obscure villagers' perceptions of intervillage cultural differences while emphasizing the similarities.

CHAPTER 6

Enhancing the Importance of Traditional Traits to Accentuate Cultural Differences

T w o FUNDAMENTAL TYPES OF LOCAL ETHNIC BOUNDARY INDICATORS

In discussing the redefinition of sociocultural borders between groups in contact, Ross (1975:60) has observed: Acculturation is actually a relatively rare event. Immigrants or colonized people almost never exchange their customs for those of their hosts or rulers; rather they develop a third set which is not identical with either. The border around them may, in other words, remain at about the same degree of definition, while the markers change . . . .

In the next two chapters, I will introduce two basic types of peculiarly local boundary markers which have figured prominently in differentiating Siam Village from neighboring Malay communities. First, there have evolved certain local variations or intensifications of cultural behaviors recognized as fundamental features of Thai ethnicity everywhere in Kelantan. Retention of, and emphasis on, these core behaviors is partly motivated by what Geertz (1963:259-260) has called "primordial attachments" or strong elements of group identification which, " . . . seem to flow more from a sense of natural—some would say spiritual—affinity than from social interaction." Simple adherence to the basic practices of the Thai ethnic category on the part of Siam Villagers, in itself, does not reflect structural relations with neighboring Malay society. In Malaysia's plural society, Siam Villagers might be expected to continue speaking their own dialect, organizing their own religious observances, and pursuing traditional ways of making a living as long as such activities proved satisfying and/or practical. I would not single out any of these traditional activities as boundary-marking phenomena, were

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it not for the relative intensity with which some are pursued in Siam Village. In this section, my principal contention will be that the small size and isolated location of ethnic communities like Siam Village not only generate pressures for increased conformity to ingroup cultural norms, but also encourage enhanced expressions of ethnic individuality through the activation of stockpiled rituals and other Thai cultural reserves. A second class of cultural boundary markers—to be described in the following chapter—comprises those microcultural behavior patterns derived from structural relations with immediately surrounding outgroup communities. Like the first group of markers, these, too, serve to distinguish Siam Villagers from their neighbors along lines of ethnic identification. But whereas markers of the first type, like intensified religious observance and persistent pig raising, primarily promote social separation, the markers of the second group seem to evolve hand in hand with the development of economic complementarity between ethnic groups. For instance, the categorical rejection of paddy double-cropping in favor of less profitable local tobacco cultivation represents a concerted action on the part of Siam Villagers in preserving their distinctive local occupational specialization. On the other hand, such contrasting agricultural techniques lead to intricate symbiotic alliances between members of the neighboring ethnic groups (see chapter 2). I shall discuss a comparable development in animal husbandry: the discontinuance of water buffalo raising among Siam Villagers despite the enduring popularity of these animals among neighboring Malay villagers. Besides these obvious contrasts in agricultural preferences, more subtle, but more profound changes in the Siam Villagers' behavior are to be identified. I shall comment upon a growing trend toward religious pragmatism and a deemphasis on the acquisition by individuals of modern luxury goods, which, along with land holdings, constitute the reigning indicators of prosperity among most Kelantanese villagers. During the last half century of interethnic social interaction, the Siam Village ethos has incorporated these changes in values and beliefs while the roles of magician and religious specialist have taken on increasing economic importance. Here, again, the distinguishing features of local Thai identity derive from the renunciation of specific outgroup behaviors, namely, obsessive fears of malevolent supernatural forces and fascination with expensive imported goods like motorcycles. Both the Thai villagers' fearlessness in confronting spirits and their relative austerity are important factors in attracting outgroup patronage. Let us now consider some specific ways in which Siam Villagers have insulated themselves from external pressures for cultural assimilation and social absorption into the surrounding Malay community. As I indicated earlier a principal behavioral response has been emphatic

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adherence to what are perceived as the utterly essential traditions emblematic of the Thai ethnic category: Buddhist religious observance, agricultural livelihood, and use of the Thai language. In fact, when identifying their ethnicity in different contexts, Siam Villagers commonly refer to themselves as "people of our religion," "we farmers," or "people of our language." Below, I shall introduce examples of persistent, modification-resistant behavior from each of these realms of activity. THE INTENSIFICATION OF RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCE

For a Siam Villager, the most meritorious course of action that one can follow is to be ordained as a monk or nun. By donning the saffron or white robes,1 one accumulates merit for oneself as well as for one's relatives, irrespective of how short a period one chooses to remain at the temple. Young men are expected to enter the monkhood at the commencement of the first Buddhist Lenten season following their twentysecond birthday. 2 As a rule, all youths born within the same Thai calendar year constitute a run, or "age-group," which undergoes ordination together. In 1974, all male adult villagers who had been or still were monks, had been approximately twenty-two years old when they were first ordained. Of forty-seven Siam Village men over the age of twentythree, thirty-eight had been ordained. Only two of these thirty-eight were Chinese whereas four of the nine nonordained men were Chinese. Thus, only five of forty-one adult Thai men, or little more than 12 percent, had failed to be ordained. Two of these five were highly introverted types. Two others were said to have feared being ordained when their time came because they could not get along with one of the senior monks at the Siam Village temple in those days. Only one of the nonordained Thai men was under fifty. Of thirty-three monks (five of the thirty-eight men were still in the monkhood), thirteen had remained in the monkhood for at least three Lenten seasons (that is, twenty-seven months), 3 six for at least two Lenten seasons (fifteen months) but not exceeding two years, eleven for at least one Lenten season (three months) but not exceeding a year, and three for less than one Lenten season. When compared with ordination statistics from other parts of the Thai world, these figures suggest some clear-cut local peculiarities. First, a far higher percentage (88 percent) of adult Thai men are ordained in Siam Village than in comparable rural areas to the north. Phillips' (1969:26) data for the village of Bang Chan in central Thailand indicate that only 41 percent of the male villagers there became monks. In the same discussion he cites Moerman's figures for the Thai-Lue village of Ban Ping in northern Thailand where only about 30 percent of the men over fifteen have ever been ordained. 4 Within Kelahtan there are also some noteworthy variations in ordination frequency. Although I only have detailed

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data for two outlying villages—both of which exhibit high conformity to ordination norms—informal conversations with representatives from other Thai villages along the Thai-Malay border revealed that, in those areas where Thais make up a large portion of the population, there tends to be a much higher percentage of apathetic coreligionists who fail to be ordained. Even in these less isolated communities, however, the ordination norm is more strictly adhered to than across the border in Thailand. The high percentages of men who enter the monkhood in outlying Kelantanese Thai villages would not be greatly impressive were it not for the fact that approximately two out of five of those who are ordained remain in the monkhood for longer than two years. Only three men of the thirty-eight Thai villagers considered here underwent what I would label "token ordinations," or those of less than three months in duration. 3 Two of these men were already married by the age of twenty-two and could not leave their families for more than a few days. I have already discussed (on p. 90) the increased opportunities for Thai men to serve in comfortable monasteries owing to the generous support of Chinese patrons. In some cases they fulfill the need for manpower in such industries as the manufacture of amulets. It should be noted that, while long-term monks thus enjoy increased exposure to the way of life in Chinese communities, they curtail whatever social relations they formerly maintained with Malays. Partly out of fear and partly out of respect, Malays avoid much contact with monks. I would speculate here that ordination has taken on symbolic importance in Kelantan which it does not carry in Thailand. Specifically, it has come to represent a formal declaration of one's identification with, or allegiance to, the Thai ethnic category. It may be only a coincidence, but when one puts on the religious robes, one simultaneously seals oneself off from sustained interaction with Malays. Local custom prescribes that young Thai men make this declaration at just the time when they are to achieve full adult status within the community. After a year or two have passed, and a young man still has not been ordained, villagers are inclined to feel that he has missed his opportunity. Older men may be ordained for a second time to accumulate merit for a deceased relative or to fulfill a religious vow, but no living Siam Village men have entered the monkhood for the first time after their mid-twenties. Outsiders, on the other hand, may do so to express their adoption of, or respect for, Thai traditions. Known cases in Siam Village include Indian and Chinese spouses of Siam Village women and one Thai man from Thailand who married a local girl. These latter instances are always token ordinations, however, and seldom last more than a week or two. The ordination of women is quite a different matter and will be described in detail later. On several occasions villagers expressed the opinion that, without or-

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dination, it would be difficult for a man to command respect as a fullfledged Thai elder.6 Linguistic evidence leads me to conclude that Siam Villagers perceive the ordination of men as the Thai counterpart of the Malay-Muslim sunat, or circumcision ceremony, performed on boys at approximately the age of puberty. The sunat, of course, marks physical as well as spiritual maturity; but it is also a ritual to be undergone by all adult men who swear allegiance to Allah. Were a Thai man to embrace Islam (and, accordingly, "become a Malay"), he would be required to show evidence of a proper sunat. By analogy, Buddhist ordination has evolved into an expression of achieved Thai ethnicity.7 Not surprisingly, when Siam Villagers talk of Malay circumcision rituals among themselves, they refer to them as kaan buad, the term meaning "ordination" in Thai. Throughout the Thai culture area, with very few exceptions, Buddhist observance is an integral feature of the Thai way of life; yet, in few areas are religious nonconformists as conspicuous as they seem to be in Siam Village. In Kelantanese Thai villages where the Taag Baj dialect is spoken, terms of address and reference frequently distinguish between men who have been ordained and those who have failed to do so. Former monks usually receive the honorific prefix "caw"before their names in any but the most familiar contexts. Nonordained adult men continue to be addressed or referred to with the prefix '">££," the same prefix used for young boys.' Unlike in central Thailand, where such prefixes as "khun" or "naaj" might also be used, Siam Villagers mostly choose between caw and ?££.' For especially venerated former monks, the prefix "thid" may be employed, but infrequently. Because of the salient nature of the caw-?t£ linguistic distinction, villagers have little trouble recalling which men have never been ordained. In fact, these few nonconformists seem to occupy a rather anomalous status. Other villagers are usually prepared to offer a variety of personal theories to explain their nonordained neighbors' peculiar omission. Since one need only be ordained for a few days to achieve the honored status of former monk, it is puzzling that this handful of men still fail to do so. I suggest that it has been the time limitation (that is, the custom of being ordained along with one's own age-group at about age twenty-two) that has accounted for the failure of most of these men to eventually enter the monkhood at their leisure. None of the five nonordained men has ever been openly ridiculed; nonetheless, all of them appear to shy away from active involvement in most religious festivities. Thus, unlike in Thai communities elsewhereeven in some in Kelantan along the Thailand border—a Siam Village man's failure to be ordained is recognized as tolerable but deviant behavior. This emphasis on individual adherence to monastic obligations along with the relatively long period which the average Siam Village man re-

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mains in the monkhood are but two of several "cultural intensifications" which buttress the exclusionary wall between neighboring Thai and Malay communities. In all regions of the Thai world, the ordination of women as Buddhist nuns is a phenomenon of limited importance in comparison with the institution of the monkhood. It is usually older women who retire to the shelter of temples where they can be of some service to the monks while leading a more meritorious existence and receiving their sustenance from the temple's stores. The numbers of nuns to be found are always much smaller than the numbers of monks. There are few occasions where nuns may assist parishioners in making merit. Nor does the ordination of a woman accumulate as much merit as that of a man. 10 Former nuns need not be shown any additional respect; nor are they addressed differently from nonordained women. Despite the relatively meager spiritual or social rewards which ensue from their ordinations, eighteen (43 percent) of forty-two married Siam Village women who were queried acknowledged that they had been ordained at one time or another. None of these were elderly women who had sought shelter in the temple. All were economically independent of the temple, and most had been ordained before they had reached the age of forty. The first ordination for women is a less formalized gesture than it is for men in Siam Village. There is no prescribed age for women to become nuns. I recall witnessing the ordination of a six-year-old girl." With very few exceptions, it is widowed, elderly women who become permanent nuns. Otherwise, most females don the white robes for shorter periods of from a day to a few months. It is not at all necessary that they be ordained for the period of the Buddhist Lenten season rather than some other period. Their reasons for being ordained are often the same as those given by men who enter the monkhood for a second time, namely, they are fulfilling a vow (ku bony2 or making merit for a deceased relative. I mention these female ordinations, not because they are qualitatively very different from those elsewhere in the Thai culture area, but because of their heightened frequency. As is the case with Siam Village men, a much larger fraction of the womenfolk are ordained here than in areas of greater Thai population concentration. Earlier I alluded to the activation of stockpiled rituals as one form of cultural intensification along an ethnic boundary. One such ritual, occurring rather rarely in other Thai areas, is the wipadsanaa, or voluntary meditative retreat composed of groups of individuals under the tutelage of a specially qualified monk. According to several Thai informants, only two such retreats have been organized in Kelantan in recent decades. One was held at the Siam Village temple and the other at the temple of another outlying Thai settlement. Both were heavily attended by Siam Villagers but were practically overlooked by villagers from larger

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PLATE 5.

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Three Thai women being ordained in Siam Village. The one on the left is a ten-year-old girl.

Thailand-border communities. The Siam Village wipadsanaa conclave was held shortly after the close of the Lenten season in about the year 1960. Some forty Thai men and women, ordained and nonordained, voluntarily withdrew from their regular roles for three months in order to "make merit and seek spiritual peace." Besides many Siam Villagers, several outside members of their parish participated. Throughout the meditation period, participants were obliged to remain in the temple compound. Those who were parents were not to look after the children or have sex with their spouses. All were expected to observe the first eight Buddhist precepts. The emphasis during the three months was on selfdiscipline, both in the form of minimal social interaction with other participants and the renunciation of material or culinary comforts. Although the laity were encouraged to attend, large numbers of women chose this opportunity to be ordained. I risk the danger of reading too much social meaning into these spiritual phenomena which become normative only along cultural boundaries. Yet, how else might one explain the absence of wipadsanaa retreats in the Thai villages along the national border? Furthermore, where they have been held in Taag Baj, the retreats have been attended not by large contingents from single communities, but by isolated individuals, espe-

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daily aging villagers preparing for reincarnation. Though many of the Siam Village participants were older people, a few unmarried women and young parents did attend. I would argue that by hosting a wipadsanaa retreat in their own temple and engaging the services of an outside priestly specialist as supervisor, the Siam Villagers orchestrated a communal expression of religious devotion. The gathering thus served to reaffirm the villagers' collective dedication to their cultural traditions before the eyes of those within and those without. SIAM VILLAGERS' STUBBORN DETERMINATION TO CONTINUE RAISING PIGS

Thus far, we have considered two varieties of intensified adherence to cherished cultural traditions: heightened conformity to religious norms, and diversification of ritual expression by seizing and elaborating upon little used practices. A third type of behavior which Siam Villagers exhibit in silently asserting their cultural individuality is the tenacious retention of traditional agricultural practices which are becoming increasingly disadvantageous economically and/or are potential sources of interethnic social friction. In particular, the villagers have doggedly persisted in raising domestic pigs despite the growing impracticality of the enterprise. Pig-raising has probably been an important tradition among the Thais of the Taag Baj-Kelantan area for centuries. Among rural villagers it is the sway-backed, locally domesticated Southeast Asian breed which prevails. This indigenous variety (muu baan) is smaller and leaner than the scientifically bred varieties (muu phan) raised commercially by Chinese, but the former type is better adapted to local village conditions. The gray-and-pink native variety is a more energetic forager and consequently requires much less commercial feed. On the other hand, it also commands a lower price at the market. In late 1973, the local breed sold for M$110 per pikul, whereas the commercial variety brought in M$140 per pikul. Thai villagers seldom invest in the larger varieties because they are more trouble to care for and more expensive to purchase as piglets. Piglets of the local breed can easily be obtained from neighbors for very low prices. An initial occupational and income survey of Siam Village's households revealed that all but seven of forty-one households had tried to raise pigs during 1973. Most of the respondents readily listed pig-raising as one of their customary occupations. However, less than a third reported any profit from the sale of their pigs. We shall see shortly why this was. A point to be emphasized here is that Siam Villagers generally raise these animals for sale to Chinese merchants and not for their own consumption. Chinese from as far away as Trengganu pay regular visits to the village to buy up what pigs are ready to be sold. The predominant-

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ly Malay-Muslim Kelantanese government strictly enforces local ordinances prohibiting the sale or slaughter of pigs in most towns outside Kota Bharu, where there is a central pork market. Even more important, Chinese shop owners, who live interspersed with Malays in rural settings, can hardly afford to offend their Malay customers by keeping pigs nearby their shops or homes. Even when shopping in Kota Bharu, these country merchants are especially prudent about concealing any purchases of pork to be consumed at home. Their shopping baskets or bags are always arranged in such a way as to expose only inoffensive foods, such as fresh produce, to the view of passersby. Winzeler (1974) reports that Chinese villagers in the area of the town of Pasir Mas refrain from raising pigs out of deference to neighboring Malays. In one settlement he studied, only two Chinese families out of twenty kept pigs. Where Thai villagers actually live among Malays in the same community a similar deferential renunciation occurs. Small Thai settlements belonging to the Siam Village parish are known to have relinquished their privilege to keep pigs as additional Malay settlers occupied the land around them. And, in fact, given the close proximity of Siam Village to adjacent Malay communities, one would expect a similar trend. This has obviously not been the case. Besides the profits to be obtained through the sale of the full-grown animals, Siam Villagers justify their pig-raising occupation on other economic grounds. Pigs, they say, consume great quantities of garbage which would otherwise go uneaten. These animals are also satisfied eating foods like sliced, boiled banana stems which cost no money but require considerable time and labor for preparation. Finally, they point out that sows bear new litters twice a year so that the numbers of the animals are forever being replenished. While all of these justifications are valid, they fail to present a complete economic picture. For instance, locally raised chickens feed on much of the same waste products as do pigs.13 Then, too, Thais could raise goats, as their Malay neighbors do. Goats are excellent scavengers, but, along with certain other species of domestic animals, they are rejected as alien to the local Thai agricultural tradition. Second, as we shall see below, the diet of domestic swine must still be supplemented with large quantities of costly bran purchased from Malay rice mills, particularly if the pigs are to be discouraged from wandering too far afield. Last, I shall relate how the mortality rate of newborn piglets has accelerated drastically in recent years to the extent that adult survivors have become more and more uncommon. At this point I would like to enumerate some of the reasons pig-raising has been an economically abortive enterprise of late in Siam Village. To begin with, the cost of rice bran skyrocketed from nearly nothing to M$12 per pikul in the two decades prior to 1974. This was partly due to

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its increased use by Malays as cattle feed to compensate for diminishing supplies of grasses. A survey of several Thai households demonstrated that villagers have been feeding their pigs more rather than less purchased feed, despite the rising prices. In 1974, at typical household with a litter of ten one-month-old piglets was spending about M$36 a month to feed that litter with rice bran and sago starch. Much effort was being expended at that time to protect the piglets from outside "germs" (phajaad) which were believed to infect the animals during their foraging. For over a decade, an epidemic had been plaguing the villagers' stocks of piglets. So extensive was the damage that villagers barely raised more mature pigs than were needed for breeding purposes. By the age of six months (the usual minimum age for sale to Chinese), four of five of the piglets were succumbing to the fever which raged through most homesteads. Eventually, as a stopgap measure, the villagers began selling off their piglets soon after they were weaned, at about the age of three months. The tiny piglets command better prices per catty, consume less feed, and have a better rate of survival than older ones. However, a oneyear-old mature pig may weigh from ten to fifteen times as much as the diminutive piglets. Most villagers agree that it is less profitable to sell piglets than full-grown animals, but how else, they ask, will they have anything at all to sell? By selling off a majority of the piglets, owners also decrease their chances of replacing their breeding stock from their own litters. Why had this epidemic gone unchecked for ten years among the Siam Village pig population? When asked why they had not consulted a veterinarian for medical advice, villagers remarked that they had just not gotten around to calling in any agricultural officers. Since the only veterinarians whom the Thais knew of were government officials, the villagers chose to avoid the possible embarrassment of having to consult a Muslim practitioner regarding problems with pigs. The villagers conceived of such a confrontation as being so awkward that it was not worth taking a chance that the doctor might be Chinese or Indian. Nor had the Thais undertaken a search for private Chinese assistance. One woman had purchased some medicine from a Chinese druggist, but it had not proven efficacious. Ironically, during all those years, representatives from the government veterinary office (Pejabat Haiwan) had paid numerous calls on the village to inspect and immunize the villagers' cattle and fowl, but the subject of sick pigs was never broached. Several Siam Villagers admitted that, had it been their cattle which were inflicted, they would have promptly summoned a veterinary official. In a parallel fashion, if a Thai bull needs to be castrated, a neighboring Malay specialist is commissioned to perform the operation. No Siam Villager possesses this skill. Yet, when a domestic boar is to be neutered, there can always be found at least one expert among the Thai villagers.14

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The greatest hardship experienced by Siam Villagers and their neighbors on account of their pig-raising is the continual destruction of garden crops by rooting swine. Specifically, it is the root crops, like yams and manioc, and fruits, like pineapples and tomatoes, which most often fall victim to the foraging pests. So serious are the pigs' incursions upon these crops, that many Siam Villagers have been dissuaded from cultivating them unless they have been able to construct especially sturdy fencing around their garden plots (pigs have a habit of digging their way under fences). As I mentioned earlier, they have had to turn to Malay suppliers for additional yams and manioc. The Siam Villagers' predisposition for raising pigs does not reflect any exceptional fondness or respect on their part for these animals as fellow creatures. Unlike cattle, which cooperate with people as companions in the performance of essential chores,15 pigs are relegated to the baser interspecific social category of kab khaaw, or "rice condiment." Perhaps partly as a rationalization for the common slaughter of pigs and boars by villagers, villagers view these animals as occupying especially low positions in the karmic hierarchy. While cattle are classified along with monkeys, dogs, cats, and horses as animals that figuratively "understand the language of humans," 16 pigs join poultry, sheep, and goats as little more than animated food reserves. It follows that slaughtering any members of the latter animal category is a far less sinful act than taking the life of a cow or water buffalo. Nor are Siam Villagers inclined to disagree with their Malay neighbors about how filthy pigs' habits are. On several occasions I recorded spontaneous remarks made by Thais regarding the unpleasant nature of the ubiquitous pig feces to be encountered in Siam Village. One villager, with whom I did a great deal of traveling, expressed envy in regard to the tidier appearance of other Thai villages where pigs were scarce or absent. Never, however, did I hear Siam Villagers make a similar comparison between neighboring Malay villages and their own community, although it would have been equally valid. Certain linguistic data attest to the fact that Siam Villagers share some of their Malay neighbors' displeasure with the behavior of pigs. For instance, among the most abusive epithets that one can hurl at another person in the local Thai dialect is the expression "sad muu," or "pig." This term is a literal translation of the local Malay "natz babi" used for the same purpose.17 Though this epithet carries considerable venom throughout the Islamic world, it is not particularly common or forceful in Thai areas to the north. An equivalent insult in central or northern Thailand would be to call someone a water buffalo (khwaaj). While the local Thais clearly have not fully absorbed their Muslim neighbors' abhorrence of pigs, they still seem to have assimilated the connotative meanings at-

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tached to the lexical terms representing pigs. So stigmatized is the Malay word for pigs, or babi, that when Thais are discussing pigs with Chinese in Malay, and especially in public places, they will often replace the Malay term with the Chinese or Thai term for pigs. To be seen outside the Thai village with a pig is just as undesirable as being overheard when conversing about them. Siam Villagers are somewhat dismayed by business transactions in which they are called upon to deliver live pigs to Chinese buyers. When possible, they request that the merchant haul the animals away in a closed vehicle. Few villagers, and especially young people, wish to be seen transporting pigs through Malay residential areas. There is a certain amount of shame felt by those who are openly "polluted by contact with pigs" before the eyes of Malay onlookers." Not surprisingly, deliveries of piglets are made at night. The evidence is substantial that pig-raising in Siam Village is no longer justifiable on economic grounds; furthermore, it can only tarnish the rather favorable reputation that local Thais enjoy among neighboring Malays. But still more critical is the potential threat this practice has posed to the continuation of harmonious relations between Melayu and Siam Villagers. There is adequate evidence in the ethnographic literature on Malaysia to demonstrate that many Malays possess an intense fear of personal contamination through contact with swine. Equally repugnant to orthodox Muslims is the desecration of holy places by these animals. Burridge (1957:163-165) describes a situation in Johore immediately following the withdrawal of Japanese forces, in which tales circulated that Chinese guerillas had taken revenge on Malay informers, not by simply killing them, but by making them eat pork that had been slaughtered in a mosque, feeding their bodies to pigs, and wrapping their corpses in pig skin. Although there was probably little truth to these rumors, they proved to be extremely effective as propaganda in inciting ordinary Malay villagers to massacre any Chinese they could capture. It was not the killing of informers that enraged the Malays but the pointed attack on Malay-Muslim religious values. Aside from the fear and hatred inspired by pigs in the minds of many Malays, the animals do constitute rather a spectacle for wandering Malay children from surrounding communities. From the time they learn of the taboo nature of the peculiar looking creatures, youngsters remain fascinated by them. Among bands of young Malay boys, it has always been great sport to throw stones at stray pigs along the periphery of the Thai village. Very young Malay children sometimes embarrassed their parents in my presence by pointing to pigs while riding through the Thai community. Malay schoolchildren are also reported to tease their Thai classmates about being pork eaters. I believe that such derision sometimes has diminished the motivation of Thai children to perform well in school.

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Those Malays who congregate regularly in the Thai village have learned to ignore the litters of pigs which invade every compound in search of forage. More devout Malay passersby keep their distance from the timid piglets and their droppings. Even among the most highly educated Melayu Villagers there persists the belief that contact with any parts of a pig spells dangerous exposure to parasites. Inevitably, pigs do stray onto neighboring Malay land; in particular, they are attracted to the manioc gardens of nearby Melayu Village compounds. What then ensues is an intriguing sequence of nonverbal communications. When a pig is caught in Malay territory, and especially when it is destroying Malay property, it becomes the target of anyone who cares to swing a stick at it. That is to say, it receives a beating from which it is not likely to survive. When the owners of the erring swine discover its absence, they trace it to the spot where it has been slain and fetch the carcass home. The meat is then divided among friends and relatives. Never throughout this sequence do Thais and Malays exchange words about what has transpired. During fifteen months of 1973 and 1974, two Siam Village pigs died in this way. The Thai villagers, surprisingly, regarded both incidents as instances of bad luck and did not seem to harbor any vengeful feelings toward the Malays who had beaten their swine. There is a general belief among Siam Villagers that, if a person provides his pigs with enough feed, they will not stray out of their compound in search of additional food. Some of the animals, it would appear, fail to grasp the extent of their territorial rights. It should be noted that stray cattle, sheep, goats, or fowl are never harmed by members of either village. There is, in fact, a law forbidding the destruction of stray animals, but Siam Villagers, as usual, prefer not to prosecute the offenders in those cases where pigs are involved. Several months after my first visit to Siam Village, during heavy monsoon rains, a column of Melayu Village mourners passed along the muddy road through Siam Village carrying a filled coffin to be buried at a cemetery in another Malay village about one-and-a-half miles down the road. It seemed rather unusual that the funeral should take place so far from the place of interment. On that day I learned that Melayu Villagers no longer used their own cemetery plot because it had been desecrated by Siam Village pigs. A Malay caretaker, who had cared for the cemetery fences for many years, died and no successor was appointed. When the fences weakened, Siam Village pigs entered the area while foraging and thoroughly polluted the sacred plot. The Melayu Villagers never registered a formal complaint, nor did any bitter exchanges follow between Malay and Thai neighbors. Nevertheless, it is conceivable that while a Melayu Villager is whacking a porcine trespasser, he is recalling the discomfort of those long burial treks.

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The data presented cogently demonstrate that pig-raising in Siam Village has been economically impractical for years. Yet, when presenting a rationale for their retention of this custom, the villagers continue to describe it simply as a traditional method for Thais to earn extra cash. Some blame their misfortune on the new kinds of feed that they are now obliged to use. Bran from commercial rice mills, they suggest, may be contaminated, whereas the bran from the old, manually operated household mills must have been cleaner. Whatever the personal reasoning might be, by late 1974, only two of thirty-five Siam Village households were disheartened enough to give up pig-raising entirely. Under similar circumstances, in a larger Kelantanese Thai village along the coast of the South China Sea, most of the villagers who had once depended upon pigraising for a large part of their agricultural income had discontinued the activity once alternative sources of income had been generated. By 1974, less than one household in eight still raised pigs, and those were kept as garbage disposals rather than capital assets. Owing to the high mortality rate of domestic pigs, it would make little economic sense to convert surplus wealth into pigs rather than cattle. We have seen, too, how the presence of large numbers of foraging pigs in Siam Village has been a perennial menace to the crucial cooperative relations between the adjacent ethnic groups. Thus far, Melayu Villagers have exercised relative forbearance in overlooking the destructive incursions of their neighbors' animals. Pig beating, in a sense, has evolved as a bilaterally acceptable form of social justice which spares both groups from undesirable entanglements with the authorities. On the other hand, the Siam Village swine-keeping, more than any other distinctive behavioral trait, impedes any progress in the social integration of the two ethnic communities. The persistence of this activity drastically restricts intervillage commensality, renders infeasible the interspersion of Malay and Thai household plots (whereas agricultural lands are interspersed), and even limits the spatial contexts where members of the neighboring villages may interact. The importance of pork in interethnic relations cannot be underestimated. If a Malay accepts a Siam Villager as a close friend, he must simultaneously display tolerance regarding their dietary differences." Not uncommonly, it is Malay friends upon whom Siam Villagers rely for assistance in procuring wild pork. As a matter of fact, nearly all pork consumed by the Thai villagers must be obtained with the assistance of either Malay or Chinese associates. Siam Villagers keep pigs but they seldom slaughter those which they raise, except when no other meat can be found for a fair or feast, or when a stray has been slain by Malay neighbors. During my stay in Kelantan only two local domestic pigs were eaten by villagers at feasts. A villager can ill afford to slaughter a pig and

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attempt to sell the flesh for a profit to fellow villagers. Too few villagers would be willing to pay the price per catty that a Chinese merchant offers. Pork sold at the market in Kota Bharu is far too expensive (M$4.30 per catty for lean meat in late 1974) for the average rural villager to purchase. Siam Villagers could almost never afford to eat the meat of the domestic pigs they raise were it not for Chinese relatives and temple parishioners. At fairs, feasts, or family meals sponsored by Chinese, the Thai villagers look forward to eating practically the only domestic pork they are privileged to enjoy. Lest the preceding discussion appear a bit farfetched, I will offer a bit of linguistic data to illustrate this dietary generalization. When Siam Villagers are encountered on their way to a particular social event and addressed with the standard Thai greeting "Where are you going?", their response is apt to vary according to the ethnic group to which the hosts belong. Characteristically, if they have been invited to a "feast" (see chapter 5), they will describe their destination in terms of the kind of food they expect to eat there. Thus, on the way to a Chinese social function the villagers will reply: "We're going to eat pork." 2 0 On the way to a Thai feast the response will be: "We're going to eat glutinous rice." 2 ' If the destination is a Malay feast: "We're going to eat [beef] curry." 22 Finally, if they have been invited to an Indian household: "We're going to eat goat." 2 ' Although this set of responses provides material for some exciting structuralist interpretations, my sole concern at this point is with the use of pork as a symbol of Thai-Chinese social relations. This contrast set does not suggest that Thais, by themselves, do not identify with the consumption of pork. A common utterance to be heard at a fair where boar meat is being served is, "If a Thai has pork to eat, he'll smile." 24 At fairs and feasts visitors are often heard to comment about the quantity of pork served. Their pleasure, of course, increases with the amount of pork to be eaten. At one fair in Siam Village, it was considered proper to leave the vegetable dishes untouched because of the great quantities of pork to be consumed. Pork, for sure, remains the Siam Villagers' favorite delicacy; and as a symbol of wealth and well-being, it far outranks most other material goods. With respect to the importance of pork in the Siam Village culture, I would like to close this discussion of pigs and ethnic boundaries by describing a process which seems to be underway in the evolution of local dietary behavioral patterns. During the slaughter of certain mampus (or "polluted dead") cattle which had been given to the Siam Villagers, I detected the absence of representatives from several households. When I inquired why they had not come to claim their shares, I was informed that they did not eat beef. This fact struck me as especially strange in a village where most people boasted that they would eat any kind of edible

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meat. Later I administered a survey to determine the extent of the beefavoidance and was surprised to find fourteen villagers who never consumed the meat of cows, buffalos, or tapirs. Only two of these villagers were over fifty years old, five were between twenty and fifty, and the remaining seven were under twenty. Allowing for accelerated population growth, I have nevertheless been moved to speculate that the rejection of beef is a phenomenon which is becoming more prevalent with every new generation. Pork, in contrast, was refused by no one! A subsequent survey in Melayu Village revealed that only two Malay villagers out of a much larger sample were non-beef-eaters, even though many rejected meats like poultry, fish, or goat. Beef is the primary ritual food of Malays. Eating beef on certain festive occasions is as important to Malays as eating pork is to Thais. On their way to a feast, Malays will frequently announce that they are going to eat [beef] curry,23 a food eaten almost exclusively during such social events. Eating beef is part of being a Malay, just as eating pork is an outstanding emblem of Thainess. Finicky or choosy eaters among Thai children are chided when they refuse to eat pork—much more so, I would argue than when they reject offerings of other meats. They are raised in an environment where the consumption of pork is a highly valued activity. The same principle probably holds true for Malay children and beef. Siam Villagers rarely purchase beef for consumption in their households. Only when they take snacks in towns are they likely to purchase beef. Very seldom do they buy it from Malay neighbors when the latter slaughter their cattle prior to Muslim feast days. Nor, as I have indicated, do Thais slaughter or eat their own cattle. Possibly, to distinguish themselves from their Malay neighbors, Siam Villagers choose to have very little to do with beef unless they are invited to the homes of Malays or Indians or receive mampus cattle from outside. Chinese also eat comparatively small quantities of beef. When called upon so infrequently to partake of dishes containing beef, villagers may retain childhood aversions to it and feel little need to yield to outside social pressures to modify their behavior. In this way is a new ethnic border-marker conceived and nurtured. Whether beef will evolve into a local dietary taboo remains to be seen—probably never, since Thais elsewhere continue to enjoy beef. Then, too, the Siam Village nagleeij who receive frequent invitations to Malay feasts will never give up the habit of eating beef curry. But the rejection of such a dietary item by some Siam Villagers has its structural antecedent in the Malay-Muslim pork taboo. Bessac (1967:60) has reported a comparable dietary parting of the ways which developed between Mongolian nomadic shepherds and northern Chinese sedentary agriculturalists. After the Mongols achieved

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political dominance over their Chinese neighbors, the latter gradually came to disapprove of the consumption of sheep and milk products, even though sheep formerly had been positively valued. The Islamic pork taboo may have originally arisen in a similar fashion among the Hebrews in biblical times—namely, as an ethnic-religious symbol distinguishing the monotheistic Hebrews from immediately surrounding, idolatrous, pork-eating groups. Devereux (1975:55) has noted that the Hebrews probably bred no pigs while they led a nomadic existence prior to their settlement in Canaan. In Canaan, they had to contend with other ethnic groups who ate pork as a ritual food. Having never acquired any particular reliance on or identification with pork, it was not difficult for them to implement a taboo to mark what Devereux terms "dissociative ethnic identity." But for such a proscription to be enforceable on a community-wide scale, there must have evolved simultaneously a parallel psychological or aesthetic revulsion among individuals. The process whereby this revulsion gathers strength and momentum can be discerned in an analysis of the Siam Village data. Adults fail to reinforce negatively a child's idiosyncratic rejection of a certain marginal food. The child grows up never overcoming his repugnance for the food. In turn, when the child becomes a parent, he influences the amount of that food which will be served in his own household, and, perhaps, also passes on his bias against that food. My Siam Village data seem to support this hypothesis insofar as non-beef-eaters sometimes cluster in the same families." In so small and isolated a community as Siam Village it is easy to imagine how rapidly this sort of "cultural d r i f t " might take place. Behavioral patterns may be learned or forgotten within the space of a few generations so long as the Thai intervillage communications system remains rarefied. Curiously, as communications improve between Siam Village and the town of Kota Bharu, social ties with distant Thai settlements atrophy. Young people, especially, experience less and less of the way of life in other Thai villages as they look instead to the urban centers for entertainment. This increased intervillage isolation sets the stage for accelerated cultural divergence in individual Thai communities. We have come a long way from the initial discussion of the economic pros and cons of pig breeding in Siam Village. It is apparent that the pig (or boar) has become a symbol laden with cultural meaning wherever we encounter it—in the occupational, communicational, or dietary customs of the villagers. I would contend, however, that the domestic pig's major importance derives not so much from its commercial or gastronomic merits, but rather from its role as a "symbol of group allegiance" for the local Thai villagers (see Douglas, 1973:62-63). It serves as one of several vehicles of great cultural concern which express the Siam Villagers' individuality and structure interethnic social relations in many different

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contexts. Yet, if Siam Village were not a tiny Thai enclave in a larger plural society, would not the pig be little more than a commonplace secondary source of income? MAINTAINING LINGUISTIC CONTRASTS

Another tack which Siam Villagers have followed in steering clear of sociocultural engulfment by the Malay majority has been to preserve the unintelligibility of their local Thai dialect when it is spoken in the presence of monolingual Malay neighbors. This conscious effort to maintain linguistic privacy is all the more remarkable given the large-scale lexical and grammatical assimilation which has already occurred between the two local dialects of Thai and Malay. In what follows I shall demonstrate how unintelligibility is achieved through the application of two sets of interlingual conversion rules: (1) those operative in the transference of thousands of phonemic sequences and/or units of semantic content from Malay to Thai; 27 and (2) those rules governing the substitution of less frequently used, indigenous Thai synonyms for more common, but recognizable loanwords from Malay. Since most of the Siam Villagers' communications with the world outside their enclave are carried on through the medium of the local Malay dialect, it has long been necessary that all members of their community acquire bilingual skills. Even the majority of interactions with rural Chinese depend heavily on Malay vocabulary for efficient mutual comprehensibility. Most modernizing influences penetrate the Thai community by way of these interethnic interactions; consequently, the terms for almost all technological and cultural innovations come to the Siam Villagers after having first been adapted to the Malay language. 2 ' Groups who are regularly obliged to switch between two or more distinctive linguistic codes tend to modify at least one of the codes to facilitate translation from one to the other and to minimize the amount of additional learning required to master them both (see Gumperz and Wilson, 1971). In this way, Kelantanese Thai has been subtly converging with Kelantanese Malay for generations. The syntactic surface structure and underlying semantic categories of the two dialects have become practically identical in many contexts. Table 1 illustrates these developments by comparing roughly equivalent expressions of a simple concept in Standard (Kuala Lumpur) Malay, Kelantanese Malay, Kelantanese-Taag Baj Thai, and Standard (Bangkok) Thai." Syntactically and semantically, the local Thai and Malay sentences in Table 1 display parallel structures while the Standard Thai equivalent is noticeably different. In just this one Kelantanese Thai sentence we see the following modifications in syntactic rules:

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1. Numerical classifiers now directly precede rather than follow the nouns being quantified. This rule is in accordance with those of most Malay dialects, but not those of other Thai dialects. 2. The quantified maag precedes the classifier which it modifies rather than following it. Here we have a unique situation, for maag (unlike laaj) normally follows the nouns it modifies, as do its counterparts (rama, bafioQ) in local Malay. However, in Malay, the expression art rama is used idiomatically to denote "the public" or "the masses." Consequently, it is necessary to reverse the word order (rama >rt) to express the idea of "many people." Local Thai syntax has followed suit with maag khon. The semantic units (meanings of words) of the two local dialects correspond to each other on a one-to-one basis in these examples. But while Standard Thai and local Thai share many of the word shapes used in the two contrasting sentences in Table 1, the meanings of the same word shapes are far f r o m congruent in the two dialects. Thus, the same fundamental ideas must be expressed differently. Some of the semantic discrepancies between Standard and local Thai are listed below with brief explanations: 1. man in local Thai corresponds to the local Malay personal pronoun dh meaning "he, she, it, or they." It has no negative connotations. In Standard Thai, however, it is used only among familiars and/or in referring to people in a derogatory sense; for example, to connote animallike characteristics. The pronoun ktt in local Thai connotes additional respect and its mostly used in referring to superiors. 2. 7aw, in local Thai, like its counterpart biw^q in local Malay, means "bring" or "take" and is used with human or nonhuman objects. In other dialects of Thai, phaa is often used instead of 9aw for human objects (and strictly speaking, phaa is the more "correct" form). Here, then, the content of the semantic category represented by the lexeme 9aw has been extended to encompass the meaning of phaa. Phaa is seldom used by local Thais. 3. luugphiin^ij is a loan rendition of anyq sadari," the local Malay phrase (literally, "child sibling") for a child of a sibling. In local Thai, luug phiiniii) has replaced the term laan in this context (luug phii and luug ny^rj are more commonly used, however, and mean "child of older sibling" and "child of younger sibling" respectively). Laan is now used in local Thai only to denote "grandchild" whereas it means both "grandchild" and "sibling's child" in Standard Thai. Again the indigenous Thai term laan has undergone a modification in meaning—in this case, a restrictive one—so as to bring it into fuller congruence with the Malay term chuchu ("grandchild"). Phiinzoq, incidentally, has also been narrowed in referential meaning. In most Thai dialects, including the Kelantanese, it denotes a collectivity of siblings, cousins, and/or kinsmen, phii being the "relatively older" and nut) the "relatively younger." 31 Unlike in Standard Thai, however, local Thais refer to "first cousins" as luug phii luug n^rj to parallel the Malay sapupu. Moreover, local Thais frequently express different degrees

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of distance between cousins; this practice is unheard of to the north. Thus, Siorj thii luug phii luug n-3-3ij is congruent with duapupu or "second cousins" in Malay, and so on. The local referential terms for cousins (and nieces/nephews) seem to reflect a concern for the relative ages of those in the parental generation rather than the relative ages of the cousins themselves. This concern appears elsewhere, for example, in the local Thai prohibition against the male offspring of a younger sibling marrying the female offspring of an older sibling. While this rule is not observed by local Malays, it is quite common in other parts of the Malay-Indonesian world. 4. lu and duu are nearly synonymous terms meaning "to look at, watch, see" in both dialects. But whereas the Standard Thai lu is used much less frequently and almost always in combination with duu (for example, luduu, duulu) or some other synonym for stylistic effect, the Kelantanese Thai lu is the most commonly used simple word representing the preceding meaning. The Standard Thai equivalent of local Thai lu is simply duu.

These sentences clearly demonstrate the extent to which the local dialects of Thai and Malay have converged in their syntactic and semantic components. On the other hand, I detected little evidence of phonological assimilation between them. The two codes still retain separate systems of phonemes. Kelantanese-Taag Baj and Standard Thai, however, share most of the same phonemic contrasts with only slight variations in vowel and consonant phones and differences in tone phones. Standard Thai has five tones while Kelantanese-Taag Baj Thai has six, but the distribution of tonal contrasts is practically the same.32 I wish to stress here that the local Thai and Malay dialects have become highly "intertranslatable," to use an expression of Gumperz and Wilson (1971:154ff.). The intertranslatable codes which Gumperz and Wilson (1971:154ff.) have described are, " . . . lexically distinct in almost every respect, yet they have identical grammatical categories and constituent structures . . . . " In studying the language-contact situation along the Indo-Aryan/Dravidian border, these writers found that differences in word shape (morphophonemic differences) alone are responsible for marking the sociolinguistic boundaries between ethnic groups. Their data indicate phonological convergence as well as congruence of semantic categories. They suggest that the contrasting codes which they analyzed share the same phonemes, from which dissimilar words are formed. At this point the Thai/Malay data differ markedly from the Indo-Aryan/Dravidian data. Although local Thai is most often distinguished from local Malay on the basis of lexical shape, there are also numerous instances of crucial lexical contrasts deriving solely from phonemic differences. In the process of transferring many local Malay words into local Thai, the fundamental arrangement of sounds may not change, but the sounds, themselves, undergo transformations that render

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them unintelligible to the monolingual Malay ear. There are other cases where Malay loanwords in Thai still phoneticaily resemble their Malay antecedents. If the Thais desire to preserve the incomprehensibility of their dialect in front of Malay-speaking outsiders, they then suppress these telltale loanwords by substituting less commonly used but safer native Thai synonyms. The lexical repertoire of the Siam Villagers is rich in such synonyms, for they are required for conversations with nonKelantanese Thais. As I indicated earlier, most of the cultural innovations absorbed by local Thais since their settlement in the Kelantan region have been introduced in contexts where Malay was the medium of communications. Thus, for instance, local Thai words for technological, political, and commercial concepts have often been adapted directly from Malay. Although the Standard Thai equivalents may be known, especially since the advent of portable radios, the Malay loanwords usually predominate in conversations among the Thai villagers themselves. Domains of local Thai vocabulary where one finds a high percentage of Malay loanwords include those having to do with: activities which are carried on primarily by Malays (for example, commercial fishing and political administration), species of plants and animals first encountered by Thais in the Kelantan area, products that are obtained through transactions with outsiders (for example, seafood, snacks, cigarettes, dry goods, fertilizer), and the vocabulary of secular education originating in Malay-medium government schools. Even when an older, indigenous Thai term exists, it may be relegated to lesser importance because a synonymous loanword is perceived as more colorful or transparent in meaning. I shall now outline some hypothetical conversion rules in an attempt to describe how Siam Villagers have incorporated Malay loanwords into their own language. First, it must be known if an indigenous Thai term already exists for a particular concept, or if one can be extended or restricted in meaning to cover that concept. If not, an available Malay term will automatically be used as a model in constructing a new local Thai word; hence we find local Thai terms like rzko? for "cigarette" and caam for "clock" (Kel. Malay: r-ik-sq and jt, respectively). Most likely these items were introduced via the Malay language during the hundreds of years when the Thais of the Taag Baj-Kelantan area were isolated from other communities of Thai speakers. Siam Villagers are familiar with the Standard Thai terms burii and naalikaa but do not ordinarily use them among themselves. If an appropriate Thai term does exist, it may or may not evolve as the principle label for the concept in question, depending on several factors. When the concept is related to a primarily intraethnic activity, rather than an interethnic activity, the native Thai term is retained. But should

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the concept regularly appear in contexts having to do with interethnic activities (for example, commerce), the native Thai term may become a secondary synonym or be dropped completely. The fate of the indigenous term partly hinges upon what Ullman (1960:80ff.) has called its "motivation" or "transparency," that is, the existence of some connection between the word's sound, morphological structure, or semantic background and its denotative meaning. Whereas phonetic (sound) motivation is simply onomatopoeia, morphological and semantic motivation involve the recognition of a word or phrase as a compound, a derivative, or a figurative expression (Ullman, 1960:93). Siam Villagers recognize all three varieties of motivation and generally value them very highly. In this discussion I will refer to all "motivated" words as transparent and all "unmotivated" ("arbitrary," or "conventional") words as opaque. A morphologically transparent term in English would be "driver" (driv-er, one who drives); "tailor," on the other hand, is morphologically opaque for all except the etymologists. A semantically transparent English term would be the " f o o t " of a hill; however, the " f o o t " of a person would appear to be opaque insofar as it lacks figurative meaning. Finally, a term like " l a p d o g " is both morphologically and semantically transparent. It is said to have " m i x e d " motivation since it is recognized as a compound, but also evokes the image of a small dog sitting in someone's lap. Siam Villagers derive a certain amount of aesthetic pleasure from transparent terms whether Thai or Malay in origin. Not uncommonly, they will show perference for a Malay term over an established Thai form if the former elicits a more colorful metaphorical image or merely "feels" more appropriate. For example, the Thai name for a popular lychee-like fruit imported from Chiengmai is lamjaj (Eng., longan), a totally opaque term for local Thais. The local Malay name for the fruit is mata kuttq, or "cat's eye." Because the shelled fruit strikingly resembles a cat's eye, the Siam Villagers find it much more fitting to refer to the fruit as taa mtzw, the literal translation of the transparent Malay term. As a general rule, whenever the Malay term is transparent, and the morphologically older Thai term is not, Siam Villagers will borrow the motivation underlying the Malay term by literally translating the Malay term into local T h a i . " The opaque Thai term will then assume a secondary sociolinguistic function or die out. If no Thai term existed, and the Malay term is transparent, the Siam Villagers almost always borrow through loan translation rather than phonemic adaptation. If both languages use transparent terms, the more colorful metaphor may win out. Where opacity prevails in the terms of both languages, the decision on whether to borrow the Malay term will depend nearly entirely on how often the villagers must use the term in interethnic interaction. The

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tendency is for Siam Villagers to use among themselves transferred phonemic sequences or loan translations of most Malay terms which figure significantly in interethnic relations. The extent to which these "interethnically marked" terms supersede native Thai equivalents may hinge upon the relative transparency of the terms. An intriguing illustration of the influence of "interethnic marking" on linguistic change can be drawn from a comparison of the Siam Villagers' names for freshwater and saltwater fish. From a list of the most commonly used names for nine freshwater fish varieties eaten in Siam Village, I have discerned only one term which may possibly be common to both the Thai and Malay local dialects (see item 4 in Table 2). All of these species are normally caught by the Thais themselves in their paddies and streams during and after the rainy season. A list of fourteen saltwater varieties, all of which are regularly purchased from Malays, turned up eleven Malay loanwords. Owing to the contrasting means by which freshwater and saltwater fish are obtained, there is a predictable disparity in the degree to which lexical borrowings are preferred in naming the fish in each category. Table 3 lists the fourteen saltwater fish varieties most commonly eaten by Siam Villagers. As in Table 2, I have listed the local Malay names and their literary counterparts across from the local Thai names, for purposes of comparison. 34 In the first two columns, I have attempted to provide glosses for the motivation of transparent mor phemes. For the literary Malay form I have supplied an English translation or description where possible. All three dialects generally place the generic word for " f i s h " before the name of the particular variety ( " f i s h " = plaa in local Thai, = ike in local Malay, = ikan in literary Malay). By studying Table 3, we can cull a great many examples of the rules local Thais use in borrowing the motivation and/or phonemic sequences of Malay lexemes. In examples 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, and 13(?), there is evidence of direct loan translations (or "caiques"). 3 5 In these seven cases, part or all of the Thai term is the reproduction of the original Malay motivation using previously available Thai lexical shapes. Where only a fraction of the Malay term has been translated, and the rest transferred phonemically, the transparency was as much morphological as semantic —opaque parts of names retain their shapes after being transferred. Examples 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 10, and 14 demonstrate the process of partial or complete transference of phonemic sequences from Malay into Thai. Note that the original Malay model for these transferences is usually opaque. Its phonological structure, however, is not always that of the local Malay dialect. Most such borrowings of phonemic sequences, on the contrary, seem to be modeled after the literary language! I will discuss this phenomenon further on. Examples 6, 12, and possibly 13 are

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the exceptions which prove the rule. Numbers 6 and 12 retain their Thai names, I would argue, because they possess colorful metaphors as their original semantic motivations; the corresponding Malay terms are comparatively colorless and opaque. Example 13 may be a case in which both the original Thai and Malay terms were transparent, and so similar in nature that it was not worth the effort to slightly modify the Thai term. Another important characteristic of Thai lexical borrowing practices illustrated by this table is the retention of "macaronic" phrases, that is, those consisting of a combination of two or more roots from different languages. All of the phonemic sequences that were borrowed from Malay in Table 3 have been combined with the original Thai generic term plaa, which is placed before the name of every fish variety. This combination of a generic Thai term with a borrowed Malay modifier is extremely common. The names for large numbers of agricultural innovations, for example, are macaronic. In some instances, macaronics may only represent a transitional stage in the convergence of two lexical units. I was fortunate enough to witness the mechanics of gradual linguistic change in such expressions as the one denoting "ice" in local Thai. Siam Villagers use different combinations of Malay and/or Thai elements to refer to commercially frozen ice, in different situations. Local Thais probably first obtained the concept of "ice" from outsiders via the Malay language, and they still buy all of their ice from local Malay or Chinese merchants. The local Malay term is ae batu, or "stone water." The Standard Thai word, with which all villagers are familiar, is nam khttrj, or "solid water." Nonetheless, I found most villagers using the macaronic nam batuu ("stone water") within the confines of their community. But if, for some reason, they wished to speak of ice in front of Malays, without sharing their thoughts with the latter (who spoke no local Thai), they would often switch to the phrase nam hin—the literal translation of the Malay ae batu—rather than simply using the original Thai term nam khttrj. This example illustrates that, even where phonemic shapes are borrowed through extremely frequent use of a particular Malay term, there exists concurrently a social need for safeguarding the unintelligibility of the Thais' local dialect in interethnic interaction. On occasion, Siam Villagers respond to this need for verbal privacy by employing ad hoc loan translations in place of recognizable phonemic borrowings. The instance at hand is especially noteworthy insofar as the more established and equally unintelligible Thai term nam khttrj is being passed over in favor of a loanword which can be switched to with less mental effort. Whereas the substitution of nam khttrj for nam batuu involves changes in both lexical shape and motivation, the switch to nam hin only requires a modification of lexical shape. Most macaronics employed by Siam Villagers adhere to the pattern of a more conservative

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Thai generic term like nam ("water") followed by a borrowed Malay qualifier like batuu ("stone" or "petrified"). I inquired about the feasibility and grammaticalness of combinations with Malay generic terms followed by Thai qualifiers, for example, *9aoj khzitj, and was told that they sounded very strange. In concluding this discussion of macaronics I would like to add that the mongrelized nature of these expressions already reduced to a considerable extent the conspicuousness of transferred phonemic sequences. In addition, their mixed construction provides a convenient vehicle for the smooth and gradual penetration of the local Thai dialect by hundreds of foreign lexical shapes and meanings. As indicated earlier, local Thais generally prefer to borrow only the motivation of a transparent Malay term and not its phonemic sequence. One might argue, however, as in the case of nam batuu, that the frequent occurrence of a Malay lexical shape in everyday interethnic conversations (in Malay) produces a kind of social-contextual phonetic motivation in some terms like batu (batuu). However much truth may lie in such an hypothesis, even a simple phonemic sequence like batu undergoes considerable modification in becoming batuu. Among other things, the first syllable ceases to be stressed, the vowel in the second syllable is lengthened, and Thai syllabic tones are applied to each syllable. In this particular borrowing, the vowel and consonant phonemes for the two local languages are quite similar with regard to their manner of articulation. The Malay batu is highly compatible with the rules for lexical formation in local Thai. In fact, with the exception of a few local Malay phones—for example, the nasalized "e" and the velar "r"— there need be only minor differences between the original local Malay and adapted local Thai articulations of the Malay language's vowel and consonant phonemes." Nevertheless, in incorporating Malay lexical shapes into their language, Thais regularly perform operations which render the phonemic borrowings much less similar to the local Malay dialect than might be expected. Let us refer to Table 3. From the examples in this table we can infer two fundamental rules of phonemic conversion. First, the local Thai dialect resists transfers of phonemic sequences containing multisyllabic words. Since Kelantanese Thai lacks most of the multisyllabic Pali and Sanskrit technical borrowings found in Standard Thai, it has remained rather faithful to its traditional isolating morphological structure. Monosyllabic and some disyllabic words are most compatible with the rhythm of Thai speech. Benedict (1942:592-593) has convincingly demonstrated how monosyllabic Thai roots have evolved concurrently with disyllabic Malay-Indonesian roots from the same proto-Thai-KadaiIndonesian disyllabic roots. This same process of phonetic reduction is evident in many local Thai lexical borrowings from Malay. In Table 3, for instance, examples 5 and 10 represent reductions of from three to two

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syllables." Comparable modifications are plentiful in other lexical domains. The second major peculiarity in the way local Thais transfer phonemic sequences from Malay has to do with which dialect of Malay they choose as a model. As I suggested earlier, the majority of these morphophonemic borrowings appear to be based on the literary Malay phonetic equivalents of local Malay terms. This is a highly puzzling practice, for until very recently, very few Kelantanese Thais were at all literate in Malay. Nowadays, of course, it is a simple matter to absorb a literary Malay term through the mass media or schools. Thai villagers possibly may be altering their pronunciations of loanwords to bring them in line with the national Malay language. Yet, this is hardly a satisfying explanation. Siam Villagers, for the most part, go right on speaking Kelantanese Malay; almost no one among them can speak literary Malay, though they do understand some when it is being spoken by others. In general, they have the same difficulties as do many of their Kelantanese Malay neighbors in deriving Standard Malaysian pronunciations from local phonetic versions of Malay words. Regrettably, the Siam Villagers, themselves, were unable to account for the origins of most of the older loanwords from literary Malay. One might speculate that a few literate and influential bilinguals among the local Thais (possibly monks) chose to model their lexical borrowings on the more prestigious standardized Malay dialect, especially when communicating in writing. There also exists the possibility that some terms were borrowed from Malay before major sound changes occurred in the local Malay dialect. The latter explanation, however, would not completely account for the ongoing incorporation of Malay forms using the very same conversion rules. In any case, the consequences of such borrowing from the prestige dialect should be obvious: the converted lexical shapes are phonetically farther removed from the dialect of Malay neighbors with whom the Thais interact. These contrasting pronunciations of the same Malay roots contribute to the incomprehensibility of local Thai vis-à-vis neighboring Malays. Again, let us return to Table 3. There is evidence, especially in exampies 1, 2(?)," 3, 4, 5, and 10, that Thai lexical shapes have been modeled after literary Malay forms (or, at least, approximations of literary Malay forms—for example, taman < tamban in examples 3 and 4). Thais are especially consistent in restoring vowel and consonant endings which have fallen away or been replaced in local Malay (for example, taman < *tamban versus tamt < *tamban; klamaa < *gëlama versus galam-i < *gëlama). Some loanwords, such as examples 5 and 10 in Table 3, have been adapted from literary Malay models and have then undergone syllabic reduction as well. A comparable product of these

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same two morphophonemic conversion rules is the most commonly used term for "tobacco" in Siam Village: bakaaw. The root for this quite recent loanword entered literary Malay as the form tëmbakau. In Kelantanese Malay the term became tobaka. The Kelantanese Thai loanword is thus the product of syllabic reduction (through truncation of the initial syllable) and the restoration of the literary Malay final diphthong "au. " The phonetic gap between bakaaw and tdbaka is quite wide. Still, local Thai villagers may camouflage their speech even further by substituting the native Thai synonym Ma sen ("shredding tobacco") which monolingual Malays would never comprehend. The latter term is retained in the Siam Villagers' active vocabulary partly because it is needed in communications with Thai visitors from southern Thailand. As so often happens, still another term must be learned in acquiring some knowledge of Standard (Bangkok) Thai. Thus many villagers are familiar with the common Standard Thai term jaa suub, and may attempt to use it in rare exchanges with Bangkok tourists or Golok merchants. Sometimes, though, jaa suub unconsciously comes out as Ma duud. In Standard Thai, suub is the polite word for "to smoke" a cigarette. Local Thais, however, use duud (in Standard Thai a more vulgar word meaning "suck"), the loan translation of the local Malay isaq ("smoke," "inhale," "suck in"). Finally Ma duud ("smoking tobacco") may be juxtaposed to Ma khiaw ("chewing tobacco") in conversations with Thais from Taag Baj who chew rather than smoke their tobacco. This rather prolonged enumeration of the synonyms for the word bakaaw is meant to draw attention to the many lexical resources Siam Villagers have at their disposal when interacting with different groups of Thais under different conditions. Each of the synonyms bakaaw, Ma sen, Ma duud, and Ma suub appears in specific social contexts defined by the geographical origins of the Thai speakers being addressed and/or the extent to which local speakers wish to guard their linguistic privacy." When used in conjunction with parallel synonyms for other concepts, they constitute an impressive repertoire of lexical styles. Thus far, I have barely touched upon the Kelantanese Thai use of local Malay as a separate linguistic code. It should be made clear immediately that there are wide variations in the abilities of individual Thais to speak Malay. The most relevant variables in predicting their Malay speaking skills include village location, and the age, sex, and personality of the speakers. Inhabitants of smaller, outlying Thai communities like Siam Village necessarily come in more frequent contact with outgroup villagers than do Thais living in areas of Thai population concentration along the international border. Since the outlying settlements carry on a much wider variety of transactions with neighboring Malays, they enjoy a much broader command of the local Malay dialect.40 Having arrived at a

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more advanced stage of bilingualism, these more isolated Thai villagers function as a linguistic vanguard, for they are frequently in the position to adopt Malay terms into their own language for the first time. Weinreich (1968:70) has emphasized the degree of independence with which many such "bilingual fringe" communities handle interlingual interference. I would not doubt for a moment, for instance, that the Siam Villagers employ more Malay loanwords in their speech than do less exposed elements of the Kelantanese Thai community. Unlike Thai villagers in areas of Thai population concentration along the border with Thailand, Siam Villagers and the inhabitants of a few other outlying Thai villages are well known for their thorough mastery of the local Malay idiom. Among the Siam Villagers themselves, the best Malay speakers traditionally have been the nagleei7 types. These hunters, wanderers, and entertainers, after all, have spent much of their lives interacting with monolingual Malay companions. In the last two decades, Malay-medium government schools have become increasingly accessible to Siam Village children. The result has been at least partial literacy in the Malaysian national language for many of the Siam Village youth. The bulk of the colloquial Kelantanese dialect, however, is still learned outside of the classroom in informal interaction settings like the market, coffee shops, or rice paddies. Some villagers, especially among the women and temple personnel, have fewer opportunities to interact with Malays. They tend to acquire an incomplete command of Malay primarily during interactions with Malay-speaking Chinese associates. This latter contingent of Siam Villagers, along with a few introverted individuals, speak a brogue which is very similar to the Malay spoken by the inhabitants of less isolated Thai villages. This Thai corruption of the local Malay language is referred to by local Malays as ktCtq ptltq sit (roughly translated, "speaking with a Thai accent"). Local Thais describe the same phenomenon as kaliitj phian or kaltttj phraa (roughly translated, "speaking with an unorthodox pronunciation"). Ptltq is essentially pidginized local Malay that is characterized by predictable patterns of Thai phonic and lexical interference. Malay sentences are intonated in much the same way that their Thai counterparts would be; and numerous loan translations of Thai origin are superimposed upon the Malay dialect. What is relevant to our present concerns, however, is not so much the structural nature of Thai ptltq, but the ways in which it is used. I have indicated that a majority of today's Siam Villagers possess practically a native speaker's command of the local Malay dialect. Yet, these very same people are among the most frequent users of ptltq. Ptltq, then, is not simply a mark of incomplete linguistic mastery; for some, including a few Malays, it is a stylistic variation which must be learned independent-

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ly. Many articulate speakers of local Malay among Siam Villagers derive a great deal of satisfaction from imitating the brogue of their less assimilated cousins. Like Yiddish-English for Jewish Americans, or Italian-English for Italo-Americans,41 Thai ptkq has become a medium for satire and humor among the Siam Villagers—most notably, among highly assimilated individuals when they are relating anecdotes about interactions between Thais and Malays. Occasionally, a /»efetf-speaking figure will appear in a manooraa performance. There exist in Thai ptkq a few linguistic idosyncrasies which even very accomplished Thai speakers of Malay fail to lose entirely. These semiconscious deviations probably serve as linguistic markers of solidarity among local Thais. One such subtle marker, I believe, is a slight raising of the local Malay nasalized low front vowel "e." Siam Villagers have reported that they are able to identify fellow Thais via such markers in crowds of fluent Malayspeakers. But Thai ptkq marks ethnic boundaries in a still more effective way. Rather than seeking total linguistic anonymity in the surrounding Malay society, Siam Villagers turn back to their less assimilated congeners with a certain ethnic pride. In assigning positive value to ptltq as a peculiarly Thai variant of local Malay, they reinforce their identification as a separate ethnic group while accepting their status as bilingual Malaysians. Not only in their language, but in many of their customs as well, Siam Villagers celebrate their status as a cultural hybrid. As I indicated in chapter 1, they are not perturbed when Taag Baj acquaintances teasingly refer to them as "Buddhist Malays." I never detected any anxiety on their part concerning their inability to fully comprehend the social and cultural changes that are taking place in Thai areas to the north. They acknowledge that their language and interaction styles are coarser and less complicated than those of Bangkok people. (All Thais north of Soqkhlaa are loosely classified as "Bangkok people.") But they seem to have little desire to emulate Bangkok people in the ways that rural villagers in Thailand usually do. No special importance is placed on smiles as social cosmetics, refined manners, or white-collar uniforms. 42 If formality is called for, villagers feel awkward and uncomfortable. In fact, when called upon to express verbal deference to some visiting Thai official, most Siam Villagers are at a loss in trying to use Standard Thai formal usages. Local Thai rural language does not have a complicated pronomial system like Standard Thai with which to mark subtle differences in status. Nor does the Kelantanese dialect commonly call for sentence particles like khrab or kha (used throughout Thailand) to express respect. It also lacks formal greetings as well as expressions for "please" and "thank you" in everyday usage. As might be expected, Buddhist monastic institutions are centers of

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cultural and linguistic conservatism in Kelantanese Thai society. Common temple activities—even in the era of Malay secular educationinclude instruction in the Standard Thai language. More and more, however, young people are being taught the phonetics of the Thai script without any in-depth explanation of the grammar or vocabulary of the literary language. Even among short-term monks, literary Thai is presented first and foremost as a medium for memorizing scriptures. Standard Thai, in short, is becoming the language of ritual, be it religious or political. The political function of the literary language is apparent during the meetings of the Thai Buddhist Association of Kelantan. Minutes are recorded and read in Standard Thai by a small group of literati, usually permanent monks or former long-term monks. Even some of the political speeches are delivered in the literary idiom. These activities are peculiar to watch, for almost no one in the audience, aside from a few monks, is able to comprehend all of what is being discussed. Occasionally, the text of a speech is translated into literary Malay, which may be even more unintelligible to older rural Thai villagers. Despite their inability to fully understand the Thai literary language, villagers continue to show a great deal of respect for it and for anyone who has learned to speak it. While villagers recognize the growing infeasibility of passing on literary Thai to their descendants, they have nevertheless displayed an intensified interest in commemorating its importance as an ethnic symbol, by choosing names from Thai literature for newborn village children. The generational differences in naming practices are striking. Those over the age of thirty-five have traditional monosyllabic Thai names derived from the days of the week, colors, shapes, or other simple natural phenomena (for example, Can, Khaan, Phud, Dii, Sug, Saw, Thid; Deeq, Dam; Been, and so forth). In olden times, such names were rigorously prescribed from numerological texts. Among today's children, in contrast, are found names extracted from epic poems, adventure serials, and even the modern Thai news media. The current appellations are sometimes multisyllabic derivatives from Sanskrit or Pali (for example, Phaawanaa, Thanaam, and so forth). I would like to suggest here that Siam Villagers have lifted these names out of their original cultural contexts and have assigned new sociolinguistic meaning to them. Because they are associated with societies where Thai culture has reigned unchallenged, the new names are highly charged with ethnic nostalgia. Amidst the deluge of Malay loanwords which dilute the local Thai dialect, these names bob up like buoys marking the villagers' cultural origins.

CHAPTER 7

The Rise of Microcultural Contrasts in the Context of Socioeconomic Adaptation

CULTURAL SEPARATISM VERSUS CULTURAL COMPLEMENTARITY

Despres (1969:14) has proposed that we view plural societies as ecosystems in which subgroupings of different "cultural sections" (here, individual communities of different ethnic categories) assume complementary economic roles in a large variety of local environments. He stresses that such social systems enjoy a selective advantage, for they reduce competition between culturally distinctive groups. Then, by occupying exclusive economic niches, these groups can more easily maintain their separate cultural identities. Barth (1969:18-19) suggests, however, that without cultural complementarity there can be no lasting symbiotic interaction organized along ethnic lines. Regardless of what objective differences initially exist between ethnic categories, specific cultural dichotomies must be singled out or even synthesized, and then standardized as bases for the structuring of interethnic social and economic relations. The intensification or elaboration of traditional Thai cultural behaviors, as illustrated in chapter 6, need not promote social or economic interdependence between neighboring Thai and Malay communities. On the contrary, such religious, agricultural, and linguistic practices may reinforce social separatism. They do, however, contribute to the continuity and stability of the Siam Villagers' ethnic identity. In so doing, they release the villagers from conservative commitments in at least some other realms of cultural activity. In particular, villagers become more receptive to behavioral modifications which do lead to increased cultural complementarity with local Malay communities. Where older cultural differences have been insufficient or inapplicable, Siam

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Villagers have evolved new, pronounced microethnic traits to complement those of their outgroup neighbors. The selection and standardization of these distinctive new cultural traits have been conditioned by the prevailing strategies of socioeconomic adaptation. The economic well-being of the Siam Villagers has hinged of late upon their capacity to respond to the needs of particular segments of the Chinese and Malay ethnic categories. A considerable amount of impression management has been instrumental in their enlistment of outgroup patrons and clients. In part, they have capitalized on their preexisting ethnic stereotype as a trustworthy close-mouthed people possessing extraordinary magical powers. Much of their economic success, however, has rested with their willingness to dismiss many fears of supernatural forces and longings for worldy goods which motivate the behavior of outgroup neighbors and Thai villagers elsewhere. To function as loveand hate-charm practitioners or morticians, they have had to play down or discard a long tradition of beliefs in malevolent spirits. In an equally pragmatic fashion, they have received alien elements into their religious observances. Then, perhaps, partly to encourage generous recompense for their services as magicians and religious specialists (see, for example, pp. 71, 175, herein), they have cultivated an image of relative privation by restricting their expenditures to less conspicuous items of individual ownership. The religious pragmatism and selective antimaterialism of the Siam Villagers are two cultural traits which have evolved in conjuction with the village's socioeconomic adaptation in a complex polyethnic environment. To varying degrees, parallel cultural developments have taken place in other Kelantanese Thai villages under similar conditions. They are not haphazard products of culture change in vacuo; rather, they represent cultural accomodations which have facilitated the development of socioeconomic interdependence between ethnic groups. This type of accommodation, derived directly from structural relations with surrounding outgroup neighbors, exemplifies the ad hoc nature of many of the elements of cultural complementarity which Barth (1968:18-19) feels are essential for sustained interethnic symbiosis. Nonetheless, it should be recognized that these changes in beliefs and attitudes are no longer just simple contingencies of socioeconomic adaptation. In what follows, I shall demonstrate how pervasive pragmatism and selective antimaterialism have become in sectors of Siam Village activity outside the economic domain. Finally, there exists a kind of feedback mechanism which interlaces the Thai village's economic adaptation with its microcultural development. To illustrate this interplay, I shall discuss the evolution of the informal prohibition on keeping water buffalos in Siam Village. I shall attempt to

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explain why the Siam Villagers have dissociated themselves from this agricultural enterprise even though it is quite popular among neighboring Malays and other groups of Kelantanese Thais. RELIGIOUS PRAGMATISM

During the course of the Siam Villagers' economic adaptation, related changes have occurred in their religious observances and their fundamental value orientations. In the domain of animistic beliefs and rituals, there has been a marked deemphasis on behavior or discussion motivated by fears of malevolent supernatural forces. This relative indifference to deeply rooted beliefs about certain spirits has enabled the Siam Villagers to adjust to their roles as sorcerers and morticians in a region saturated with spirit worship. A large-scale revolution has taken place in the local Thai villagers' perceptions of the causes of misfortune. For most of them, evil no longer lurks in their environment as an inherent and independent natural force. Danger and misfortune are not arbitrarily encountered: rather, they stem from the negligence, ignorance, or sinfulness of the afflicted. Buddhist philosophical doctrines of the classical tradition have always provided adequate explanations of wordly suffering for literati who would dismiss animistic beliefs. Siam Villagers, however, cannot be counted among these literati, for, although they recognize the principles of karmic order, they also adhere to many of the animistic beliefs and practices which have long been a part of rural Thai Buddhism. Among other things, they continue to believe quite strongly in the existence of phii, or "spirits," who reside among humans as the guardians of their homes and crops. Depending on whether the needs of those morally neutral phii are attended to, the latter will either protect their human wards or inflict suffering upon them. Each villager is responsible for settling his own accounts with the phii through individual and collective propitiations. Should some calamity befall a villager, it is likely to be attributed to an oversight on the victim's part in paying his proper respects to his spirit guardians. Traditionally, there have been a great many varieties of phii included in the cosmology of local Thai villagers. But to my surprise, save for a handful of experienced magic practitioners, villagers were generally unable to describe the various categories of phii in any consistent detail. Limitations of space and patience prevent me from presenting an indepth classification of those phii names which were elicited. Only three categories are particularly relevant here: (1) the morally neutral phii who watch over homes and crops; (2) phii preed, or the normally harmless "ghosts of ancestors"; and (3) an amorphous category of intrinsically malevolent phii said to be the enemies of the theewadaa, or "divine angels."

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For now, it is the inherently harmful phii which merit our attention. Other students of Thai folk religion like Tambiah (1970:315ff) have called attention to various categories of malevolent spirits such as those of the unincorporated dead or certain free-floating nature spirits which Thai villagers elsewhere identify as agents of misfortune. What is striking about these malevolent spirits is their apparent evacuation from Siam Village in recent years. Within the confines of the village, for example, there are no longer any spots believed to be the haunts of dangerous phii. Villagers report, however, that several decades earlier, the cemetery and an isolated rest pavilion were feared and avoided at night on account of the harmful spirits that were believed to reside there. When queried about the whereabouts of these evil spirits nowadays, most villagers had little information to offer. Some suggested that they must have been encouraged to depart years ago when their favorite haunts (for example, old trees, bottles, a saalaa, and so on) were destroyed by villagers. Only a few Siam Villagers claim to have actually seen phii. Such people are hesitant to describe these encounters, not out of fear, but out of embarrassment, for their fellow villagers have become increasingly skeptical of such reports. Few of these sightings have been reported in recent years, and almost none by younger people. Several respondents shrug off the statements of two would-be beholders who they hold to be unreliable. One they identify as a rather senile man and the other a women with recurrent anxieties. While neighbors refrain from ridiculing these individuals, and even agree to propitiate guardian spirits on their behalf, they make light of such incidents behind the backs of the purported witnesses. Stories of neglected guardian or ancestral spirits are more acceptable and are frequently used to explain people's misfortunes. The vengeance of these offended spirits should subside when the victims make amends. Villagers are careful to pacify such spirits in accordance with prescribed customs, but propitiatory ceremonies do not necessarily call for solemnity. They are frequently accompanied by considerable merriment. Offerings to the rice paddy spirits, for instance, have traditionally been followed by manooraa performances. When an offended guardian spirit is suspected of having caused a particular illness, the victim's treatment will never entirely depend on the propitiatory remedies prescribed by villager practitioners (m:» baan). Serious ailments are quickly brought to the attention of doctors in government or private clinics. It is in the atmosphere of skepticism that village magic practitioners earn their living as mediators between the human and spirit worlds. While they regularly take the necessary precautions to avoid offending the spirits with which they may come in contact, they are seldom wholly convinced that these spirits actually exist. They are particularly suspi-

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cious of ghost stories emanating from neighboring Malay communities and are wont to ridicule the superstitions of outgroup associates. Unlike many Malays and Chinese, they recognize no danger in handling the bodies of the deceased, so long as they do it with a proper show of respect. Even the corpses of those who have died prematurely, or of unnatural causes, receive no special care or comment, although their cremation is more expeditiously carried out. In chapters 3 and 4, I described at some length the pragmatic salesmanship resorted to by Siam Villagers in attracting Chinese patronage to their temples: the increased frequency of fund-raising temple fairs; the furnishing of temple compounds to cater to the needs and comfort of Chinese visitors; the scheduling of festivities to coincide with urban Chinese weekends and particular dates on the Chinese ceremonial calendar. It is also apparent that, in several Kelantanese Thai temples, monks are increasingly being assigned to promotional tasks, such as the construction of Chinese sponsored Buddha statues or the manufacture of amulets, rather than to traditional activities like language or religious instruction for children. Like Thai temples elsewhere, the Kelantanese temples sometimes serve as locations for syncretic Chinese rituals. Chinese parishioners are never required to change their eclectic religious habits. Thus among the structures of a temple compound commonly can be seen Taoist statues or shrines covered with prayer papers. The urban Chinese are permitted to use the Thai monks just as they would their own, albeit their perceptions of the monks' role may differ from that of their Thai hosts. Coughlin (1960:105) has effectively elucidated these contrasting notions of the monks' functions: . . . For the Thai, the monk or novice has a positive function: he enables the layman to make merit, and the more his services are used, the greater the merit accumulated. The Chinese regard the monks as intermediaries between the individual and powerful gods and spirits. When the gods are favourable, there is no need for the the services of monks. They are sought only in times of misfortune—in the event of sickness, ill luck, death—when the gods must be appeased and again made favourable. The less one has to do with monks at other times the better.

In September, 1974,1 witnessed a dual-purpose ritual sponsored by the Siam Village temple to encompass both the Thai saj preed ceremony and the Hokkien Chinese "Dewa Day" feast. 1 The former ceremony is performed two or three times each year during the tenth Thai lunar month. The Hokkien ritual normally falls on the fourteenth day of the seventh Chinese lunar month. In 1974, the Siam Village ceremony was planned to coincide with the Chinese ceremony, thereby assuring Chinese participa-

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tion. The two rituals derive, in fact, from the same ancient HinduBuddhist source. Both are concerned with presenting offerings to ancestral spirits. For the Thais the sajpreed ceremony is an occasion on which the phii preed, or ghosts of ancestors condemned to long periods of hunger, must be propitiated with lavish offerings of food. On the day when this ritual is held, these ghosts roam through their old village haunts and may cause considerable harm if not appeased with food. Textor (1976) suggests that, while this rite is definable in animistic terms as appeasement, it is, of course, definable in Buddhist terms as meritmaking, or more precisely as passing a portion of the merit one has made along to the preed. Accordingly, food and gifts are also donated to the monks. For the Chinese, on the other hand, Dewa Day marks the sole occasion when the spirits of their ancestors in the lower world are released to wander about the world of the living. Because they may become restless and destructive, they must be placated with offerings of food. The Chinese festival also calls for a visit to the family graves or urns where care is taken to see that everything is in order. On that same day in September, each group went about fulfilling its own ritual obligations until the climactic moment when a large threetiered bamboo platform piled high with (mostly Chinese) food offerings was formally dedicated to the ancestral spirits of the two groups. While the Thais placed joss sticks around the platform, the Chinese burned their prayer papers below it. The combined ceremony constituted a splendid spectacle of socioreligious symbiosis. In return for providing the Chinese with an appropriate setting for their ritual, the Thais received hundreds of pounds of expensive fruits and sweets which were later consumed in the village. Thai religious specialists sometimes find themselves participating in non-Buddhist rituals at Chinese homes. For instance, they may be obliged to remain at a funeral ceremony after having prepared the corpse. Other times they are invited to weddings or wakes at the houses of Chinese parishioners. Villagers report that they occasionally feel obliged to pay their respects to Taoist idols or ancestral altars in conformity with others at these gatherings. On such occasions they pray as they would at their own temple while thinking (they say) about their own Buddha images. Not only Chinese, but Indians as well, are known to use Siam Village as a ceremonial center. The Indian sons-in-law of three villagers have given their in-laws handsome pictorial and sculptural images of Hindu deities. The villagers display these colorful images on the walls or tables of their houses, mostly for their decorative value. But occasionally, Hindu visitors who have come to consult with the abbot stop in at one or more of these houses to pay their respects to the images.

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In contrast to the austerity of Malay Islamic observance, Kelantanese Thai Buddhist ceremonies afford participants opportunities for lighthearted revelry. This is especially true at temple fairs which are organized to attract outside guests. Not uncommonly, local Malays show up in large numbers to watch the entertainment and patronize the amusement booths. Sometimes they are invited to give silat (the Malay stylized art of self-defense) or makyong performances in return for snacks and cigarettes. Many fairs provide opportunities for neighboring Malays to come and sell snacks or offer their services as taxi or pedicab drivers. But even during lighthearted amusements associated with Buddhist ceremonies, Malays are permitted to participate. Certain festivities, like those accompanying the thixl kathin ceremony, traditionally call for a jubilant procession (ha.) around the temple compound. The marchers usually dance to the rhythm of various percussion instruments which are being beaten. When neighboring Malays learn that such a procession is to be held, as many as twenty volunteers from their ranks prepare themselves to join the tail end of the column. They bring along their own drums and their own traditional rhythms. The resulting blend of sounds is somewhat cacophonous; but by allowing the Malays to participate, Siam Villagers spread goodwill. Neighboring Malay children also look forward to such processions, for shortly after the marchers disband, the fair's host customarily throws into the air tiny packets (luug kamphryg) of banana leaves stuffed with coins. In the mad scramble that ensues, Malay youths receive a fair share of the monetary prizes. Siam Villagers never express any discontent regarding the gratuitous participation of the outgroup youngsters. A final pragmatic adjustment that Siam Villagers have made in their religious rituals has been their accommodation of double ceremonies for such events as weddings or funerals. When a daughter of a Thai villager is to wed an Indian suitor, all parties agree to conduct both Buddhist and Hindu marriage ceremonies at the home of the bride. On one occasion, a friend of one Hindu son-in-law was permitted to perform an additional funeral ritual over the body of a deceased Thai villager. Both Hinduism and the more syncretic local Chinese religion are perceived by Siam Villagers as equally commendable sister religions of their own Thai Buddhism. Thai parents never object to their daughters' and grandchildren's visits to the temples of Indian or Chinese sons-in-law. While Siam Villagers have been serving as brokers of morality, some very fundamental changes have occurred in their perceptions of human morality and the accumulation of merit. As in other parts of the Thai world, there is a feeling among older, more devout villagers that people are no longer as virtuous as they were in the past. Even the monks, they conclude, can hardly avoid committing a few sins—perhaps just swatting

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mosquitoes. As one elder remarked, "We try to lead virtuous lives, but we aren't against committing a practical sin now and then." 2 If Siam Villagers seem less inhibited about sinning, they are nonetheless more orthodox than some Thais to the north in their interpretations of what constitutes sinful behavior. For instance, unlike many Thai fishermen elsewhere, they readily acknowledge fishing to be a necessary sin; they are willing to accept full responsibility for the death of the fish, rather than rationalizing (like many Thai Buddhists) that they only bring the fish out of the water to die on their own. Sinning, in a sense, has become a commonplace risk that one must take in order to eke out a subsistence. Considerable care is taken, however, to atone for one's sins. We have seen how thorough most Siam Villagers have been in fulfilling their formal religious obligations. Besides unusually high rates of ordination, prayer attendance, and voluntary withdrawals for meditation, villagers avail themselves of other prescribed procedures for effectively accumulating merit. To offset the consequences of sinful habits like gambling or hunting, many villagers abstain from these activities on the four Buddhist Sabbaths (wan phra?) of each month. To a greater extent than in other parts of Kelantan, adult Siam Villagers over thirty years of age observe eight (rather than five) religious precepts on these four holy days. Among other things, they eat nothing after their late-morning meal, wear no cosmetics or jewelry, and refrain from sleeping on soft mattresses. Such expressions of piety, along with attendance at special sabbath services, are modes of merit-making normally reserved for the aged. For some Siam Villagers, these ascetic practices are intended more as moral compensations for participation in immoral activities than as efforts to accrue merit for a future reincarnation. In obeying three additional precepts, most villagers are actually committing themselves to all of the first five as well. These include prohibitions on the consumption of alcoholic beverages and the hunting of animals. Unlike in some parts of Thailand, where the first five precepts are liberally interpreted, 3 very few Siam Villagers make any pretense of faithfully observing the entire set. Anyone who claims to do so is said to thyy siin ("observe precepts") and is generally respected as being an especially devout person. As a rule, only temple personnel and lay elders are in a position to permanently thyy siin, for such piety hampers one's ability to earn a living. It is most often the case that individuals (for example, sorcerers) will expiate their offenses by observing the precepts for short periods of time. Then, when they attain a certain age, they will discontinue most morally undesirable activities and concentrate on increasing their spiritual capital. Patient meditation along with generosity toward one's fellowmen are considered the most efficacious means for laymen to accumulate merit in

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Siam Village. Villagers are encouraged to contribute to the temple what money and materiel they can afford. But, contrary to the religious values of Thais elsewhere, most Siam Villagers do not estimate merit partly in terms of the absolute amount of wealth donated. Mulder (1973:6), in discussing central Thais, has reported that wealthier contributors are automatically in a position to acquire more merit: "One hundred baht makes more merit thai? one baht, providing the intentions are the same and the source of money is respectable." Siam Villagers, however, express the view that merit, whether material or spiritual, can only be measured in terms of the relative sacrifice and selflessness involved in a deed. Kaufman (1960:183) has provided evidence from the village of Bangkhuad in central Thailand indicating that, according to local values, laymen could accumulate the greatest quantity of merit by sponsoring the construction of a temple. Presumably, because it has been Chinese money which has paid for many of the Thai religious structures in Kelantan, Siam Villagers hesitate to place excessive value on such sponsorship as a meritorious act. Many Chinese "donations" actually have been, in effect, payments for divinatory services rendered or magical amulets provided. The thought of a local Thai single-handedly financing the construction of a temple does not often occur in the minds of Siam Villagers. When asked how they would use M$100,000 if they were to win a lottery, many villagers mentioned various meritorious deeds, but none desired to sponsor a new temple or even a smaller temple structure. Villagers are not awed by wealthy patrons who make large, conspicuous donations but who seldom show up to participate in religious rituals. These types of patrons, though recruited and accommodated, are not very respected. They are said to ?aw naa 9aw taa, or "show o f f , " when making merit, instead of making genuine sacrifices or obeying the precepts. This negative attitude toward the pretentious display of material symbols will be investigated further in the following section. SELECTIVE ANTIMATERIALISM

To fully comprehend the value orientations of the Siam Villagers, it is necessary to examine the economic personality of the surrounding Malay villagers from whom the Thais seek to distinguish themselves. Swift (1967:246ff.) has concluded that the Malay villagers of Negri Sembilan recognize intravillage status differences primarily by assessing the relative quantities of durable consumer goods people possess.4 He describes the shame felt by those who are unable to exhibit the same symbols of material prosperity that their neighbors do. As a consequence, he notes, Malay villagers tend to strive for a level of consumption which surpasses their incomes. Swift's conclusions hold true for a majority of Kelantan's Malay farmers. Many of the Malay villagers whom Nash (1974b:29)

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queried readily distinguished their own economic orientation as placing great importance in the display of wealth, while the Chinese were known to save their money. A survey of the consumer goods purchased by Melayu and Siam Villagers revealed some fundamental differences in the ways in which surplus wealth has been used in the two communities. Among the middle- and low-income households of Melayu Village, eight people had acquired motorbikes or motorcycles, and three people, decrepit automobiles. Most of these purchases had been made on credit. In several cases the new owners were known to have defaulted in their payments; repossession of vehicles was a commonplace occurrence. No Siam Villager had ever owned a car and only one Thai man, who commuted to his place of employment about eleven miles away, had acquired a secondhand motorbike. One Chinese villager who worked in Trengganu also owned a motorbike. Neither of these had been bought on credit. The ratio of bicycles to households in Melayu Village was approximately 1:1, while that for Siam Village was 0.7:1. Siam Village bicycles were generally older models than their Malay counterparts. No figures are available regarding relative numbers of battery-powered radios or tape recorders. It was my general impression, however, that Malay houses were more elaborately furnished. Many Malays were careful to display collections of assorted goods in large wooden and glass cabinets (almari), which could easily be seen from the main entrance of the houses (see, for example, Nash, 1974b:39). Those Siam Villagers who owned such cabinets frequently kept them in less prominent rooms like the kitchen. Nowhere is the display of prosperity more important for Malay villagers than in public places outside their home villages. On trips to Kota Bharu, especially, young men and women look forward to showing off their finery. Malay women will take advantage of such occasions to exhibit their gold jewelry. The young men may even dress in the latest Western fashions while idling about their own villages. One of the easiest ways for an outsider to distinguish between the Malay and Thai gamblers at Siam Village, or between Malay and Thai customers at a Melayu Village coffee shop, is to inspect the clothing being worn. Malay youths often don western-style sport shirts, trousers, and shoes while their Thai neighbors wear modest sarongs and Japanese rubber sandals. Even during visits to Kota Bharu, Siam Villagers are much less meticulous about their appearance than most of their Malay neighbors. Thai women, although they do sometimes keep their savings in the form of gold chains, seldom display such possessions publicly. Both the Malays and Thais occasionally buy commercial cigarettes at sundries shops; but, whereas Thais confine most of their purchases to the inexpensive Chinese brands, many Malays prefer prestigious English

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varieties like Dunhill or Rothman's, which are advertised in the media. Malay men may also spend large amounts of time and money in coffee shops. In general they consume greater quantities of coffee and soft drinks than Siam Villagers of similar means. Siam Villagers have remarked that they enjoy the atmosphere of coffee shops, but have lamented that it is too costly to remain in them for long. They feel obliged to continue ordering beverages; moreover, the setting calls for a more elevated style of consumption. For example, the rules for behavior in coffee houses, and, in particular, those at the market junction and in town, call for sharing expensive cigarettes and snacks with friends. Hand-rolled local cigarettes are permissible, but are considered more appropriate for social interactions in private homes. A striking feature of routine conversations among Malays are the plentiful inquiries concerning the current income and expenditures of others. In some cases, villagers of both groups are simply keeping tabs on the rapidly increasing cost of living. Melayu Villagers, however, are much more knowledgeable about the personal finances of ingroup neighbors than are Siam Villagers. As I indicated in chapter 3, Thai villagers are quite reticent about income derived from morally marginal services. Nor are they as straightforward as Malays in pressing strangers (like anthropologists) for details about personal finances. Relative wealth among the Siam Villagers does not seem to be as crucial a criterion for the initial categorization of strangers as it is among surrounding Malays. There are in Siam Village a handful of prosperous households which, at first glance, would appear to be as caught up in the expression of material prosperity as most Malay households of comparable affluence. In fact, practically every luxury item to be found in these Thai homes has been contributed as a gift by an outgroup son-in-law. In three houses can be found various articles of upholstered furniture which have been placed near the front entrances to be used when guests drop in. One Chinese and two Indian sons-in-law are responsible for the presence of these items. For the most part, these chairs and tables receive almost no wear except when outsiders of high social status enter the homes. In two instances, clients of magic practitioners are entertained on this furniture. The outgroup sons-in-law also use it. Otherwise, the inhabitants spend most of their leisure time sitting on mats or on more modest wooden or rattan chairs in their kitchens. Outgroup sons-in-law have also presented their in-laws with radios, clocks, a record player, a tape recorder, and two sewing machines. Villagers report that the first wooden chairs to be used in the village were introduced by Chinese in-laws in the early 1960s. Several households now take their meals at modest tables in their kitchens; again, most of these tables have been sponsored by Chinese or Indian in-laws. Very rarely do the Siam Villagers themselves initiate such

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purchases. In a similar fashion, a number of village elders have received their only eyeglasses and city clothes from non-Thai sons-in-law. Those without such in-laws normally dispense with these luxuries. The fact that Siam Villagers buy fewer durable luxury goods does not in itself prove that they are "antimaterialistic." Ample evidence has been gathered, however, to indicate that they actively dissociate themselves from certain kinds of acquisitive behavior commonly found among their Malay neighbors. Before my first household economic survey, for instance, I was told by at least two villagers that no Siam Villager had ever purchased a motorized vehicle. Then, when I learned of the existence of the two absent motorbikes, the Thai villager who owned one of them practically apologized for having bought such a luxury. He assured me that it was quite old and had not cost very much. Perhaps, having been the first local Thai to violate the ban on such "irresponsible" acquisitions, he had experienced shame. Motorbikes are one of a variety of temptations which Siam Village adults vigorously decry when instructing their children about the economic realities of life. The status-conscious people who impulsively buy these luxuries are portrayed as fumblers worthy of ridicule; they become a principal focus of Thai gossip. Few predicaments are perceived as more humiliating than those of improvident villagers who must forfeit down payments on costly luxury items because of their failure to follow through with predetermined installment payments. Siam Villagers admit that they would be thoroughly dismayed should they themselves provoke such gossip among fellow villagers. Indulgence in expensive luxury goods is usually assumed to have repercussions in other sectors of the household economy. Those who are preoccupied with unrealistic conspicuous consumption are stereotyped as being incompetent spouses and parents who leave their houses in disrepair and fail to provide adequate food for their families. Although most Melayu Villagers clearly do not behave in this manner, Siam Villagers are nonetheless fond of applying this stereotype to Malays in general while sketching derogatory caricatures during ingroup conversations. Siam Village antimaterialism is "selective" in that it only militates against individual purchases of conspicuous durable goods. In private ingroup interaction contexts, Thais themselves categorize fellow villagers according to their level of food consumption and their sponsorship of, or participation in, feasts. Villagers are quite sensitive to minor differences in the quality of food served at various households or contributed to the temple. Those who can afford to are expected to be more liberal in their spending for rice condiments and snacks. Unnecessary frugality in this context is viewed as stinginess. The food provided at feasts and temple fairs is also evaluated for its relative merits, especially when calculating the amount to be contributed by individual guests in payment for

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hospitality. More well-to-do Siam Villagers are occasionally referred to as those who can afford to eat larger, more expensive varieties of fish, or those who have the means to sponsor fairs or feasts. Another common expression used to indicate prosperity is daj kin kaaftt rnj, or "one can drink the finest coffee varieties." Chinese are admired for the richness of their diet while Malays are criticized for exercising too much thrift in planning their meals. The local Thai attitudes toward food consumption may possibly reflect their emulation of Chinese economic behavior and their rejection of what they perceive as typically Malay value orientations. Siam Villagers also make a linguistic distinction when describing permissible versus undesirable luxury items. Motorbikes and other conspicuous durable goods are referred to as kh»rj jod, or "prestige items." 5 Expensive goods, in contrast, are khurj phiseed, or "special items." People whose self-esteem derives from their material possessions are designated as khon jod, or, roughly, "status seekers." Some Chinese who make large contributions to the temple to increase their prestige are also considered khon jod. Here it is the manipulation of material symbols rather than the possession that is important. Such individuals are not necessarily undesirable people, but their values are considered highly impractical. Villagers recognize this fascination with material symbols as a stage through which many youths must pass before reaching psychological maturity. Young nagleerj, for example, were traditionally expected to be overly concerned with their physical appearance, and especially their clothing. However, the large numbers of unemployed youths who do nothing but idle about the towns in foppish clothes are recognized as a separate category of nagleerj—the nagleerj chibhaaj, or "damnable" nagleerj6—as opposed to nagleerj len, or "performing" nagleerj. Siam Villagers proudly claim that none of their youth have turned out to be idlers. The monkhood, they point out, performs a useful function in keeping unemployed young men off the streets until they are mature enough to reject the lifestyle of the nagleerj chibhaaj. Ironically, perhaps, it is the monks of the Siam Village temple who enjoy the greatest exposure to "undesirable" luxury goods. When Chinese parishioners donate electronic equipment to the temple, it is automatically placed in the care of the resident monks. Not infrequently, a radio or tape recorder will be earmarked for a specific monk. The longer a man remains in the monkhood, the more goods he acquires as his personal property. During the afternoon siesta, and in the evenings, monks are free to use all such temple equipment as they please. In the cell of one monk who has served for about ten years, can be found a tape recorder, FM radio, electric fan, and electric guitar. Since the temple compound has its own electric generator, it is the only part of the village where most electronic equipment can be used. All Siam Villagers, in principle, are en-

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titled to enter the temple and avail themselves of its entertainment facilities. In many cases, villagers have discreetly taken advantage of these privileges. So long as care is taken not to harm temple property, it remains public property. The inconspicuous use of such facilities has never been discouraged, only the purchase of them by individual villagers. Within the temple compound villagers are thoroughly exposed to many of the luxuries of modern urban life such as running water, electric fans and lighting, and, as of late, even a television set. Owing to their access to these items, most of their fascination with them gradually wears off. Unlike their Malay neighbors, who do not use the temple facilities, they harbor no great desires to possess their own equipment. When queried as to what they would do if they won a lottery, most adult Siam Villagers responded that they would like to purchase more land somewhere, travel to other countries, and make merit. Compared to neighboring Malays (who also expressed interest in acquiring land and making a pilgrimage to Mecca 7 ), relatively few Thais enumerated lists of consumer goods which they would buy. This section may be summed up by saying that it would appear as though Siam Villagers find nothing intrinsically disagreeable about luxury goods so long as they are not irresponsibly purchased and are not flaunted publicly as status symbols. Thanks to Chinese temple patrons, villagers can collectively familiarize themselves with many of the modern comforts of urban life while still lacking visible prestigious material possessions on the individual household level. Covert supplementary sources of income, though substantial, go largely unnoticed by outgroup neighbors as a result of the Siam Village policy of "inconspicuous consumption." In this way, villagers retain the cooperation and patronage of outgroup neighbors who sympathize with their apparent economic sluggishness and relative material deprivation. " W E THAIS D O N ' T RAISE WATER BUFFALOS"

An early survey of Siam Village households revealed that, in contrast to their Malay neighbors, the local Thai villagers owned no water buffalos. Like the Malays, the Thais held a large part of their reserves in the form of cattle, but in the case of Siam Village those cattle included only cows. More than thirty years had passed since any Siam Villager had raised a buffalo. Numerous villagers under twenty-five years of age seemed unaware of the fact that these animals had once been a common sight in the household compounds of their ancestors. Nor were all villagers cognizant of the popularity of water-buffalo breeding in other Thai settlements. One Thai community near the Trengganu border, for instance, had resettled on their present site primarily because of the pasturage it afforded for their grazing buffalos. Puzzled by the peculiar absence among Thais of animals which were

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plentiful in all surrounding Malay communities, I conducted a house-tohouse investigation of the reasons Siam Villagers offered to explain their decision not to keep buffalos. The results of this inquiry proved very instructive, for they revealed a striking diversity of individual perceptions regarding an informal community-wide avoidance of these animals. The most common responses to my questions touched upon the growing shortage of pastureland available for grazing such large animals. What pastures were accessible were government-owned fields located about one-half mile from the village. Villagers complained that walking the buffalos to and from the government fields was too great an investment of time and energy to be worthwhile. Moreover, these pastures were already closely cropped due to the intensive grazing of numerous Malay cattle. Buffalos were said to consume about twice as much fodder as cows, which Siam Villagers bred in great numbers. The larger animals were used for heavy work like plowing and deep-water harrowing and consequently required more nourishment than cows, which were mainly kept for breeding purposes.8 Cows could still produce calves despite their inadequate diet. Buffalos were also extremely sensitive to heat and dryness; lacking the capacity to sweat, they could not be exposed for long to the tropical sun, unless their tethering places were near water—in which they could soak themselves to cool off. Some Thais seem to have been repelled by the perpetual coat of mud which covered the bodies of buffalos; some felt buffalos were dirtier than pigs. Others remarked that buffalo manure, unlike cow manure, was unmanageable as fertilizer. Its lack of consistency caused it to be easily washed away. Buffalos also did much of their defecating under water. Two Thai women expressed their fear of buffalos' unpredictable temperaments, especially when approached by strangers. The animals' horns were considered very menacing. Cows, on the other hand, could withstand considerable heat, remained relatively clean, were more docile, and left valuable droppings. Finally, the Thais pointed out that young boys had traditionally been assigned to look after buffalos; however, ever since the government schools had absorbed the Thai youngsters, no one remained to care for the beasts. After eliciting this information I proceeded to ask the Siam Villagers why so many of their less well-to-do Melayu Village neighbors persisted in keeping buffalos, even though they lived just as far away from the pastureland and, in many cases, owned about the same amount of land. The Malay children, I noted, were also attending school. The usual response was something like "pen phaasaa man" ("That's their group's way of doing things."). Some Thais observed that Malays did not seem to object to the excessive toil involved in providing the buffalos with fodder. Others replied less tactfully that their Malay neighbors were just too

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benighted to give up their traditional ways even though these customs were proving impractical. Never did any Thai respondent hint that buffalo breeding might be a profitable enterprise, although a few admitted that the animals could be useful in plowing. Dobby (1951:246-247) estimated that there were about two buffalos for every five oxen raised in Kelantan. The traditional preference for buffalos as sacrificial food in Malay areas may have stemmed from an earlier association with Hindus and their abomination of cow-beef (see Skeat, 1967:189). Their superior qualities as draft animals would certainly explain their continued popularity among rice cultivators. When Melayu Villagers were questioned about their reasons for raising water buffalos, they usually replied that the sale of these animals constituted an important source of cash income. Several Malays also profited from hiring out their buffalos to other Malays or Thais during the planting season. Though they acknowledged the hardships involved in caring for the animals, they were generally very favorably disposed toward them. They were quite aware that their Thai neighbors did not keep them. The failure of the Thais to participate in this activity was interpreted by some Malays as an indication that Thais disliked hard work. Others concluded that Thais were not fond of the buffalos themselves. At first glance, the objections raised by Siam Villagers in regard to water buffalo-keeping seem perfectly valid. Nevertheless, if we compare the disadvantages of raising buffalos with those of raising cows, we do not find adequate justification for categorically choosing one species over the other. In many ways, buffalos are indeed less trouble to care for than cows. During the eight months of the year, between June and February, when Kelantan receives most of its rainfall, buffalos need comparatively little special attention. They can graze peacefully in partially flooded fallow paddy fields where they feed on the coarse straw of rice stumps. On pastureland they remain content so long as there is a nearby puddle to wallow in. They do not require constant surveillance any more than do cows. Nor is it necessary to scrub them down after they have worked in a muddy field. Cows, in contrast, are fearful of flooded grazing land or the deep mud of paddies. Unlike buffalos, they are easily irritated by the leeches found in humid grazing areas. They are also much more restricted in the types of herbage they can digest. Since cows fear water, they cannot be used to plow or harrow deeply flooded paddies. Even in shallow mud, two cows are required to do the work of one buffalo. Then, when they are finished harrowing, they must be scrubbed clean. During much of the rainy season, villagers are obliged to collect fodder for their cows. Often this fodder consists of grasses growing wild among the rice stalks or on the bunds between paddies. Surplus rice seedlings left in the seedbeds after transplantation are likewise a common

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source of cow fodder. When the rains confine the cows to the yards of homesteads, water must also be brought to the animals in buckets. In the dry season the cows are frequently tethered on patches of sparse vegetation along the road leading into Siam Village. But just as often, villagers can be seen walking their cows to distant grazing areas where buffalos could just as easily be led. Furthermore, uncastrated male oxen can be as irascible and dangerous as any water buffalo. In two cases I recorded, only the male heads of households could control their intractable oxen when leading them to pasture. Another comparison must be made between water buffalos and cows to understand the rationale underlying the Malays' decision to raise buffalos. In early 1974 a six-month-old buffalo calf could be purchased for about M$250 to M$300, while the cost of a cow calf of the same age was approximately M$150. At that same time a three-year-old buffalo could be sold for more than M$700 whereas a cow of the same age might sell for about M$400. In very round numbers, the value of both varieties of cattle tripled after about three years. The initial investment for a buffalo calf was greater, but so was its gross profit. A common Malay saying recommends that if one raises two buffalos to maturity, one will have the funds to pay for a pilgrimage to Mecca. The most crucial economic factor influencing the Thais' decision not to keep buffalos was hardly mentioned at all by respondents from either group; namely, as of 1973, Siam Villagers had not plowed their fields with buffalos for several years. Because the Thai villagers' land holdings were modest and their outside cash incomes were fairly steady, they were able to afford the M$15-per-hour tractor rental fee.® The cost of plowing one acre ranged from M$20 to M$30. Thanks to their hidden sources of income, most villagers were prepared for so heavy an outlay of cash. Moreover, they were obliged to do so only once a year, since they chose not to double-crop. Impoverished Malay buffalo owners, on the other hand, were apt to use their buffalos instead of tractors to plow their paddies. Covering one acre with a buffalo-drawn plow required an entire week's labor. Poor Malay farmers were hardly anxious to disclose the embarrassing fact that they could not afford to hire tractors to do their plowing. In time it became apparent, however, that about two out of five buffalo owners used their animals in this way. The harrowing of rice paddies is quite a different matter. Neither Siam nor Melayu Villagers have ever hired tractors to rake their already plowed fields. When the paddies are not deeply submerged, a pair of oxen or a water buffalo may be used for harrowing. If the flooding is deep, one or two buffalos are hitched to the harrow. Before the advent of double-cropping among Malays (seep. 179) only two or three Siam Village households with low-lying paddy fields were ever compelled to

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hire Malay buffalos for harrowing. The rest were able to use their own or neighboring Thai oxen. Compared to plowing, harrowing is a relatively minor chore requiring less than two hours of labor per acre with a buffalo-drawn rake. In early 1974 it cost approximately M$6 to hire a Malay and his buffalo to harrow two acres of paddy land. Thus far, I have reviewed the relative merits of raising buffalos and cows. I have provided information which indicates that neither variety of cattle is so superior to the other as to warrant its being chosen as the only acceptable variety under ordinary agricultural conditions. Buffalos, to be sure, require a somewhat greater investment of money and energy than cows; but, in return, they yield superior profits and perform additional farming tasks. Over the years, as the Siam Villagers have turned outward for new sources of income, they have come to depend more on cash payments for services and less on agricultural production for their subsistence. At some point during their socioeconomic adaptation, the combination of diminishing paddy acreage, greater availability of tractors, and increasing cash incomes reduced their dependence on waterbuffalo labor to a level where buffalo-keeping was no longer considered particularly advantageous. In the ensuing decades, buffalo-keeping has become identified by local Thai villagers as an exclusively Malay practice. During the ongoing process of cultural dichotomization, Siam Villagers have acquired or evolved negatively biased attitudes toward buffalo-raising as being an enduring feature of Malay agricultural technology. Even among Malays themselves, the use of water buffalos for plowing is a sign of socioeconomic inferiority. The gradual adoption of double-cropping technology by surrounding Malay farmers has recently posed a dilemma for Siam Villagers. Interspersed Malay and Thai paddies are being planted on different growing schedules. Double-cropping necessitates the sowing of rice varieties with shorter growing seasons, whereas traditional, heavier, singlecropped varieties require as long as two or three additional months to mature. Since Siam Village plots constitute a minority of the cultivable land in the area, they are perforce affected by the prevailing irrigation conditions in adjacent Malay plots. Beginning in about 1972, certain Siam Villagers found that the level of the floodwater on their plots would thereafter be dictated by the irrigational needs of neighboring Malay paddies, which were in different stages of maturity. One consequence of the conflicting schedules was the increased flooding of many Thai plots at the traditional plowing time. The upshot was a new need for buffalo power in the harrowing of the more deeply flooded plots. By mid-1974 eight Siam Village households were hiring Malays to harrow plots which had formerly been harrowed with Siam Village oxen. This number was expected to increase as all surrounding Malay paddy was adapted to the

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double-cropping schedule. One Thai villager was determined to harrow his plots by hand with a hoe rather than depend on Malay buffalos. This backbreaking experiment proved thoroughly impractical. It appeared as though the Siam Village cultivators would either be forced to choose lighter, lower yielding rice varieties, and possibly double-crop themselves, or become increasingly dependent on Malay water buffalos. Up to late 1974, the villagers chose the latter alternative. The threat also loomed that some Thai villagers would even be forced to plow their paddy fields with buffalos because certain of their plots were inaccessible to tractors when surrounding Malay plots had already been planted. Under current conditions, it has been impossible to stagger planting and transplanting as farmers once did in the past. 10 Throughout all of these changes in agricultural conditions, no Siam Villager has, as far as I could learn, ever seriously considered purchasing a buffalo. Should buffalos be needed to plow disjunctive plots, Malay buffalos will be hired instead of tractors. Buffalos are therefore likely to play an increasingly significant role in Thai-Malay economic relations. At the same time they will continue to serve as recognized markers of the local microethnic boundary. Let us briefly summarize the preceding developments in generalized terms: Because the Siam Villagers were culturally different, they were obliged to seek some other, noncompetitive economic niche. Their new complementary economic role afforded them a further opportunity to distinguish themselves as a separate cultural group. In turn, their new indicator of cultural distinctiveness took on added importance as an element of cultural complementarity which could be used in the continuing redefinition of Siam-Melayu Village economic interdependence.

CHAPTER 8

Some Cognitive, Social, and Spatial Parameters of Local Ethnic Boundary Maintenance

DIVERSIONARY BOUNDARY-MARKING PHENOMENA

Chapters 6 and 7 dealt with several of the cultural domains which Siam Villagers have used as channels for communicating their ethnic distinctiveness. By reaffirming traditional differences in religious observance, language, and agricultural practices, and by evolving new distinctive cultural traits, like their composure in dealing with potentially harmful supernatural forces and their outward indifference to materialistic status symbols, the villagers have enhanced their image as a separate but viable sociocultural entity. In this section I propose to take a closer look at the diversified collection of Siam Village behaviors which have been charged with metacommunicative meaning as indicators of local Thai individuality. Among other things, it should be stressed that the number of identity markers in operation is actually quite small given the infinite variety of cultural materials in terms of which such markers could be cast. Moreover, within each cultural domain chosen to convey information about Thai ethnic identity, the thrust of the message has been funneled into a simplified core of highly conspicuous isomorphically contrastive behaviors. In time, these focal signals of ethnic distinctiveness achieve an autonomy as bases for structuring interethnic relations. Thus, for instance, in the cultural domain of agricultural practices, clear-cut dichotomies in such activities as tobacco cultivation, paddy double-cropping, and pigand water buffalo-raising function as underlying principles for the organization of Siam-Melayu Village interaction. On the other hand, former differences in paddy harvesting techniques or rice varieties grown have faded away practically unnoticed.

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Barth (1969:16) has noted that, " . . . where persons of different culture interact, one would expect. . . [marked behavioral] . . . differences to be reduced, since interaction both requires and generates a congruence of codes and values—in other words, a similarity or community of culture. . . . " In each cultural domain that serves as a medium for the ritual expression of Thai-Malay ethnic differences, 1 can also be found evidence of extensive assimilation. An isolated ethnic enclave like Siam Village is obliged to interact with Malay neighbors in a wide variety of transactions. Negotiating the exchange of material or spiritual commodities has required the standardization of concepts and categories across ethnic boundaries. Without a fundamental corpus of shared understandings, it would be quite impossible to establish any "systematic set of rules governing interethnic social encounters" (Barth, 1969:16). Moreover, bicultural groups like the Siam Villagers are motivated by natural laws of cognitive economy to minimize the effort required in learning and using separate systems of cultural meanings. The transference of identity markers to a small assortment of conventionalized focal behaviors has actually cloaked—and in that way facilitated—a more profound convergence of local Thai and local Malay culture in the very same domains where ethnic differences seem most prominent. I have chosen to refer to these formalized and often deceptive surface contrasts in cultural behavior as "diversionary boundary markers." Moerman(1967:156) has identified a comparable set of superficial, item-equivalent traits used by the Lue in distinguishing themselves from surrounding ethnic groups. Shortly I shall outline some parallel diversionary boundary-marking phenomena which have evolved in Thai dietary, religious, and liguistic behavior. I would venture to hypothesize that such diversionary markers are to be encountered in most, if not all, situations of culture contact. They can be said to function as cognitive "defense mechanisms" which permit cultural minorities like the Siam Villagers to preserve their distinctive cultural identities while undergoing incorporation into a larger pluralistic sociocultural system. Throughout Parts Two and Three, I have reviewed evidence indicating the central role played by the pork taboo in insulating Muslim-Malays from outside sociocultural influences. Obversely, by resolutely identifying themselves with the production and consumption of pork, Siam Villagers have distinguished themselves as an independent cultural entity. Save for the pork-beef dichotomy in ritual foods, however, the differences between Thai and Malay dietary habits are mostly a matter of proportion rather than variety; namely, Siam Villagers tend to be more liberal in their expenditures for delicacies. Some two-thirds of the meals which Thai villagers eat, in fact, are indistinguishable from those served in the homes of well-to-do Malay villagers. Like most Kelantanese

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I«3

farmers, the Siam Villagers' major source of protein is small fish purchased from Malay vendors. The typical Thai shopping basket normally contains the same local produce, spices, and sweets as its Malay counterpart. Only the arrival of tabooed meats from the outside interrupts this routine. Even among commonly eaten ritual foods one finds surprising correspondences between the Malay and Thai traditions. "Saffron rice" (Thai, khaaw niaw lyatj\ Malay, nasi (or pulut) kuning), for instance, is offered by Thais to monks and by Malays to Koran teachers in return for the holy men's blessings prior to some undertaking. It also plays a role in the wedding rituals of each group as well as in Malay circumcision ceremonies and Thai ordinations. Another variety of rice, or "spirit rice" (Thai, khaaw niaw khwan; Malay, nasi (or pulut) sSmangat), is commonly used by both groups in the propitiation of spirits.2 Other local specialties are eaten as ritual foods by both Malays and Thais but at unrelated festivities. Woven coconut leaf packets of rice, called kStupat by Malays, are traditionally eaten during Hari Raya celebrations at Malay homes. The same packets, called katom by Thais, are exchanged and eaten in Thai villagers during saj preed and other festivities. A special rice noodle dish (Thai, khanom ciin; Malay, laksa) is also prescribed for consumption at different points on each groups' ritual calendar. These are but a fraction of the foods recognized by Malay and Thai villagers as having special ritual importance. 3 Siam Villagers also share with neighboring Malays certain customs regarding the combinations of foods which are permissible for consumption by pregnant women and/or seriously ill people in general. The health of these individuals is believed to be influenced by the proportions of " h o t " and "cold" foods eaten at specific times. The concept of "heat" underlying this typology has little to do with the physical properties of the foods thus classified; more likely, it is a survival from preIslamic times on the Malay Peninsula (see Fraser, 1960:193-194). In general, Siam Villagers have turned to Malay experts for advice concerning birth customs. It should be emphasized that beef plays much the same role in Malay socioreligious festivities as does pork in Thai temple fairs. As beef is to pork, so also is Malay-Muslim religious observance to Thai-Buddhist observance. These remain mutually exclusive foci of activity and principal markers of ethnic identity. Very seldom do representatives from one religious group display much interest in the sacred rituals of the other. Yet, fundamental religious values and attitudes do seep into interethnic discussions of secular topics. Ample evidence exists to demonstrate convincingly that Siam Village religious beliefs have been very strongly influenced by prevailing Malay-Muslim concepts. The notion of

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religious merit, for example, is now practically identical for both groups. Many Siam Villagers recognize the performances of charitable deeds as the most meritorious of acts. These deeds need not involve the presentation of gifts to monks; assistance granted to anyone in need is highly meritorious.4 Related to merit and demerit is the notion of "marginally acceptable" or "undesirable" behavior. The Malay term referring to such reprehensible but not entirely sinful actions is makroh. Melayu Villagers list as makroh such activities as: eating unclean or foul-smelling foods like budu (pickled anchovy sauce) or bSlacan (shrimp or fish paste), overeating, smoking cigarettes, chewing betel quids, playing the lottery, or using raw manure as fertilizer. An equivalent concept has risen to prominence in the interpretation of morals among Siam Village elders. The notion of the half- sin, or siin mun mynj, refers to behavior that may not directly occasion the accumulation of demerit, but is definitely unpraiseworthy. Commonly cited half-sins include: inducing others to undertake sinful activities like hunting or slaughtering animals, violating religious oaths like those pertaining to the observance of religious fasting rules; displaying stinginess; and specific offenses like having others cook fertilized eggs.3 Although Thai and Malay villagers rarely attend each other's formal religious rituals, Siam Villagers, to a certain extent, have come to view the two ritual complexes as congruent expressions of the same basic human values. Villagers readily furnish carefully thought-out analyses of the corresponding virtues of parallel Malay and Thai religious observances. Common analogies drawn include: Malay circumcision and Thai ordination ceremonies as comparable initiation rituals; the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca and the Buddhist adherence to the first eight precepts (thyy siin) as parallel renunciations of sinful activities in preparation for the afterlife or rebirth; and, of course, such obvious equivalents as weddings, housewarmings, and funerals. In the realm of animistic ritual, where members of the different ethnic groups sometimes find themselves as coparticipants, the repertoires of techniques and beliefs are practically identical. Albeit Malay and Thai magic practitioners presumably evoke separate spiritual forces, their methods and showmanship must meet certain standardized expectations. In the production of charms, for instance, the same basic substances are prepared for the same purposes. Malay and Thai villagers recognize the same categories of village practitioners. Even in rituals which they do not witness in common, like the propitiation of the rice spirits, both groups assume methodological equivalence to be the case. The data on religion illustrate the mechanics of diversionary ethnic boundary-marking phenomena. Melayu Village Islam and Siam Village

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Buddhism are discrete social institutions with broadly dissimilar ritual trappings. They function to separate the spheres of activity of the two ethnic groups. Y e t , the underlying cognitive categories and religious value orientations of the neighboring ethnic communities have been gradually converging. Animistic practices, in contrast, have provided a context for extensive interethnic social interaction. The respective ethnic roles in standardized animistic rituals derive not so much from differences in technique, but rather from preconceived notions about the nature of the participating ethnic categories. Thai magicians view Malay clients as being somewhat naive and superstitious; Malay clients attribute extraordinary powers to Thai magicians. Differences in the observances of the separate world religious traditions with which villagers identify reinforce social and spatial segregation between Malays and Thais. Much of the Thais' reputation as superior practitioners of magic surely stems from their image as an insular and mysterious social group. Thus, carefully maintained contrasts in formal religious ritual help justify Thai social separatism, which, in turn, lends credence to myths concerning Thai magical prowess. The same ritual differences also divert the attention of both groups away from the rapidly disappearing contrasts in their animistic folk religion. In chapter 6 , 1 described the syntactic and semantic assimilation of the local Thai dialect to Kelantanese Malay. This rapid and extensive linguistic convergence has progressed unhampered partly owing to the Thais' preoccupation with preserving contrasts at the morphophonemic levels. Presently I will offer some additional linguistic evidence to demonstrate the extent to which the categories of Siam Village cognition now correspond to those of surrounding Malay society. In this instance we are not concerned so much with how the villagers perceive their world, but rather with those aspects of that world which they are regularly obliged to give heed to when communicating verbally. There are a few instances where Siam Village usages in local Malay appear to be somewhat pidginized. Even where such usages vary slightly from those of Malay neighbors, they remain instructive insofar as they still hint at corresponding cognitive structures in local Thai. For the compound-bilingual Siam Villagers the correspondence between the two codes is nearly complete. Let us briefly study the lexical domain of numerical classifiers (numerical coefficients) in the local dialects of Malay and Thai. In particular, we shall focus our attention on a few of the most common classifiers used when counting various inanimate objects. We shall find that, with few exceptions, the local Thai forms are literal translations of transparent and highly productive Kelantanese Malay lexemes. 6 These local forms contrast markedly with the opaque, conventionalized terms frequently used as classifiers in other Thai dialects. Most Kelantanese

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terms classify collections of objects according to common physical attributes, whereas most indigenous Thai counterparts encompass whole graveyards of dying or already dead metaphors. Once again I have chosen some examples from Standard (Bangkok) Thai to represent the less hybridized varieties of Thai language. We shall begin by noting a few examples of common Standard Thai numerical classifiers and their multifarious referents.

1.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Classifier Referent tua animals, performers, chessmen, letters of the alphabet, tables, chairs, beds, benches, nails, pen nibs, shirts, coats, trousers, cigarettes, cards, figures, and so on. khan vehicles, violins, spoons, forks, umbrellas, and so on. lem books, knives, swords, needles, carts, and so on. baj tree leaves, sheets of paper, pages, tickets, fruits, bowls, cups, eggs, propellers, and so on. luug pieces of fruit, mountain ranges, typhoons, balls, and so on. med small, round objects such as seeds, grains, stones, jewels, pills, drops, and so on. phyyn pieces of cloth, mats, pieces of land, but not clothing. pieces, items, "ones" (for general use when no conventional '?an classifiers are known or when the speaker is careless)

Siam Villagers have a passive understanding of these and other Standard Thai classifiers but seldom use them among themselves. Tua is still used as a classifier in local Thai, but mostly in contexts where Kelantanese Malays would use tko, that is, with animals. N o w let us turn to a few of the most heavily used local Thai classifiers and their local Malay equivalents. 1.

med

( = Kel. Malay bute) In its absolute sense, refers to "smallish" objects of no particular shape: pieces of fruit, glasses, plates, cups, small bags, umbrellas (sometimes), small pieces of furniture, wristwatches, hats, whole cakes or loaves of bread, books, footballs, seeds, grains of sand, stones, stars, keys, small pieces of food, and so on. Med may also be used in designating larger objects to connote that they are undersized or part of a larger group.

2.

luug

( = Kel. Malay bu?h) In its absolute sense, refers to "larger" objects (or places) of no particular shape: houses, temples, suitcases, large pieces of furniture, motor vehicles, villages, cities, countries, bicycles, doors, windows, large rocks, hills, fields, and so on. Luug may also be used with smaller objects when emphasizing relative "largeness" in size. In borderline cases, where

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3.

dun7

4.

phyyn

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an object's size is neither particularly large nor particularly small, solitary items are more often counted as luug than med; otherwise, either term is acceptable. Because either luug or med can be applied to almost any kind of object, local Thais seldom need an additional classifier like ?an for general use. ( = Kel. Malay bate) Refers to "elongated" objects of no particular size: pens, pencils, cigarettes, matches, posts, pillars, sticks, candles, spoons, knives (sometimes), umbrellas (sometimes), roads (sometimes), fences, logs, boards, and so on. Here the emphasis is on the shape rather than the size of an object. In some contexts, luug or med may supersede dun when relative size is more important or shape is ignored. ( = Kel. Malay la)' Refers to objects which are thin, broad, and soft: pieces of cloth, rugs, mats, shirts, trousers, dresses, newspapers (sometimes), and so on.

These examples should suffice to illustrate the disparate cognitive operations involved in the selection of many numerical classifiers in Kelantanese versus Standard Thai. In a majority of cases, central Thais employ fixed classifiers which seem to be arbitrarily assigned to particular quantifiable objects or substances and which seldom vary in different contexts. Kelantanese Thai classifiers, like their local Malay equivalents, generally carry greater intrinsic meaning, and are more often selected to emphasize specific properties of the objects being quantified. In many instances, depending on whether size, shape, or texture is being stressed, different classifiers may be employed to count the same class of objects. A few rather arbitrary classifiers do exist in local Thai.' Most of these, however, are loan translations from Literary Malay via the local Malay dialect. Thus, for example, Siam Villagers frequently use the form d u g (usually meaning " f l o w e r " and sometimes "bud"), where Melayu Villagers use pué^q ( " b u d " or "shoot") as a classifier for postal letters. The lexical shapes and phonetic components of local Thai numerical classifiers are still purely Thai. They are incomprehensible to those who command no knowledge of Thai. On close examination, however, they reveal unequivocal capitulation to local Malay semantic dominance. They provide evidence of assimilatory changes in Thai cognition, especially with respect to the application of obligatory grammatical categories. Proto-Taag Baj Thai classifiers were probably fixed, only semitransparent, and practically lacking in connotative function. Modern Siam Village Thai classifiers often oblige the speaker to make a choice between two or more alternatives. That choice will depend on the degree to which the speaker emphasizes the absolute or relative physical attributes of the objects being counted and which attributes are weighed

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most heavily. I conclude, then, that when Siam Villagers use this grammatical category they must frequently attend to certain features of their environment which their ancestors and Thai cousins to the north could ignore. As a parenthetical note, I would add that various social contexts also call for differing degrees of correctness in choosing classifiers. Just as speakers of Kelantanese Malay may attempt to use Standard Malaysian classifiers in formal contexts, Siam Villagers will sometimes formalize their speech with Standard Thai classifiers. This adds a sociolinguistic dimension to the choice of classifiers which is seldom encountered in other parts of the Thai world. RURAL CULTURAL MODELS FOR LOCAL THAI ASSIMILATION

It should be emphasized once again that the social matrix in which Kelantanese Thai culture has evolved its hybridized infrastructure has been a wholly rural one. Unlike the Malay communities of southern Thailand, who have primarily assimilated elements of Thailand's national culture via the mass media and the schools, the Siam Villagers have mostly absorbed the cognitive and behavioral patterns of their rural Malay neighbors. There are numerous contexts in which Thai and Malay villagers identify with each other as comembers of a single rural peasant class. Their common interests and values are believed to be basically incompatible with those of more sophisticated and crafty townsfolk. They share many of the same feelings of inferiority concerning their illiteracy and rustic appearance. On the other hand, they point with pride to their ability to derive a livelihood from the soil, their endurance in coping with the hardships of rural life, and their greater warmth in relating to other people. This shared identification with the same positive reference category (that of "country folk": in local Thai, khon bog; in local Malay, are daraq) facilitates interaction and mutual understandings among Thai and Malay villagers regardless of how many ritual barriers they erect to keep themselves culturally and socially distinct. Similarly, Siam Villagers have earned the sympathies and cooperation of scattered Malay villagers, in part, because they speak the same language—the language of the impoverished but virtuous Kelantanese peasantry—not some version of the synthetic Malay literary idiom promoted in the schools. Older, unschooled Siam Villagers who are recognized as fluent speakers of local Malay often experience serious difficulties in communicating with speakers of other Malay dialects. Their Malay, and its local Thai mirror image, are poorly equipped to cope with newly introduced concepts accompanying the technological revolution in Malaysia and Thailand. It was intriguing to discover, for instance, that unschooled Siam Villagers have no lexemes in either of their languages for units of time like seconds or centuries.10

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Then, too, the Thai villagers' compound-bilingual lexical maps for such phenomena as colors deviate noticeably from those of both standard languages. Like illiterate villagers among their Malay neighbors, they are not accustomed to using words like biru ("blue") or ungu ("purple"), both of which are identified as basic color terms in Standard Malay (see Berlin and Kay, 1969:97). Nor do they recognize the Standard Thai word namyan signifying medium to dark shades of blue. The primary blue hue among unschooled Siam Villagers and their Melayu Village counterparts is most commonly designated as "dark green" (Kel. Thai, khiaw thaw; Kel. Malay, hija tuz>). Even where local dialectal color terms are morphophonemically identical to Standard terms, they represent quite different segments of the spectrum. For example, under the influence of science and with exposure to commercial dyes, educated urban Malays and Thais have come to identify the words kuning and lyarj respectively as the labels for the primary yellow hue. New terms have been adopted to cover most of the orangelike hues. For Melayu and Siam Villagers, however, kuning and lyarj designate a yellow-orange focal hue reminiscent of the saffron used in staining rice or monks' robes. English focal yellow is designated by villagers as "light yellow," while English medium orange is "dark yellow." The traditionally rural character of the Siam Villagers' bicultural skills testifies to the fact that they voluntarily learned to communicate with socioeconomic peers among outgroup communities, and especially with those Malays who were crucial to the Thais' economic adaptation. Malay customs and language were not thrust upon the Thai villagers by political superiors. In fact, until very recently, there was little incentive for local Thais to acquire the language and culture of the Malay urban elite. The local Thai-Malay cultural dichotomies, which have facilitated interethnic symbiosis and signaled ethnic boundaries, are ritualized distinctions in behavioral domains associated primarily with rural Kelantanese society. The conceptual raw materials from which local Thai ethnic identity has been forged are elements common to the cognitive structures of both neighboring rural groups. SPATIAL DETERMINANTS OF INTERETHNIC RELATIONS

In this section, I shall review the spatial dimensions of ethnic boundary maintenance. Specifically, I shall consider variations in the expression of cultural differences among Thai and Malay villagers living in adjacent versus widely separated communities. It has been argued that interethnic social relations along the geographical boundaries between Siam Village and contiguous Malay communities are more rigidly structured and constrained than those between Siam Villagers and individual Malays from distant settlements. Inhabitants of immediately neighboring ethnic communities regularly emphasize their membership in mutually exclusive

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sociocultural categories. They tend to relate to one another as occupants of complementary economic and social roles, rather than as independent individuals. These formalized roles have adaptive advantages insofar as they protect the intervillage symbiotic status quo. In contrast, many Thai and Malay individuals residing farther apart seem less inclined to categorize each other purely on the basis of their dissimilar social identities. No constellations of formal sociocultural rules guard the social segregation of their respective villages. Consequently, they are apt to play down their cultural differences except where it is mutually beneficial to stress them, as in the hunting of boar. Even the token abandonment of ritualized identity markers paves the way for more intimate and spontaneous social relations between members of the two ethnic categories. In earlier chapters I referred to localized prohibitions in force among members of adjacent ethnic communities regarding the discussion of certain markers of ethnic identity. Not only are inhabitants of one village discouraged from satisfying their curiosity about many distinctive cultural traits of their outgroup neighbors, but they must also consciously avoid expressing any interest in them by wandering into the wrong places at the wrong times. Only the most foolish and ill-bred villagers would dare to be seen eavesdropping on the sacred religious rituals of the other group. No Siam Villagers trespass in the area surrounding the Melayu Village surau, or prayer chapel, and in principle no Melayu Villagers should enter any of the Thai religious structures unless they desire to transact some business." Outgroup neighbors are conspicuously absent at rituals sanctifying the slaughter of domestic animals. Members of one ethnic community do not pay their respects at funeral wakes or burials of acquaintances in the adjacent villager, albeit they may contribute to the cost of these rituals through an outgroup intermediary. Nor do Melayu and Siam Villagers compare notes about Islamic and Buddhist religious rituals. As a result the ceremonies of each group retain an element of mystery for the other. Such thorough social segregation in these matters enhances the effectiveness of these rituals as cultural barriers since assumed differences are then exaggerated. The same communication restrictions apply to the realm of contrasting agricultural and dietary practices. Melayu Villagers do not watch their Thai neighbors while the latter are cultivating their tobacco plants; nor would they dare ask Siam Villagers for tobacco seeds or advice about tobacco cultivation methods. Siam Villagers, in turn, refrain from seeking instruction from Melayu Village neighbors regarding rubber production. The two groups are similarly disinclined to debate the pros and cons of double-cropping or water buffalo-keeping. With respect to seed rice, however, members of the two ethnic communities exhibit noticeable cooperation in exchanging samples and identifying the most advantageous

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varieties for cultivation; rice varieties (along with other crops like fruits and bamboo) have not evolved as signals of ethnic identity. We have also seen that the subject of pigs, whether domestic or wild, is a particularly delicate one, for the presence of these animals is a chronic source of potential friction. Siam Villagers report that Melayu Village neighbors are not among those Malays who openly display curiosity about the consumption of these or any other polluted animals. Great pains are taken by the Thais to conceal the butchering, roasting, and eating of animals forbidden to Muslims. In a similar fashion, Thais are careful not to offend pious Malay neighbors by consuming any kind of food in overly public places during daylight hours of the month of Ramadan, wherein proper Muslims are expected to fast from all foods. Intervillage social relations are subject to numerous constraints, but none is more strictly adhered to than the segregation of unmarried men and women. Divorced or married women from either group occasionally can be seen chatting with outgroup men, but even this kind of interaction must take place in public places. Apparently, no Siam Village man would even entertain the thought of marrying a woman from the contiguous Malay community. This prohibition has not applied, however, in cases where Siam Villagers marry Malays residing in communities further removed from the local ethnic boundary. The adventurous nagleeg types of both sexes are the most likely men and women to marry Malay spouses because of their greater mobility. Sleeping in the homes of others is a common sign of social solidarity among friends or relatives, in both cultures. It follows that such houseguests would be expected to partake of meals served by the host family. During discussions of social distance, Siam Villagers expressed the view that reciprocal visits to each other's homes were among the most important indications of friendship. The proximity of Melayu Village to Siam Village reduces the likelihood that an inhabitant of one of the villages would ever be in a position to need to spend the night in the other village. But much more telling is the fact that Siam and Melayu Villagers rarely interact for any reason once the sun has set. Thais may congregate at the temple or at neighboring Siam Village households for several hours of conversation. Malays do much the same thing in their own community. Several Melayu Village coffee shops remain open until as late as 11 P.M.; they entertain a regular clientele of Malay men who gather there almost nightly. Siam Villagers seldom visit these spots after dark unless they badly need particular items which are sold in the shops. Night or day, despite the proximity of the two communities, it is evidently not at all unusual for some inhabitants of these villages to pass months or even years, without paying a single social or business call on anyone in the adjacent outgroup community. The only exceptions to the nocturnal

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moratorium on intervillage social activity are the marathon gambling bouts at Siam Village which may attract a few players from Melayu Village. Those Siam and Melayu Villagers who do visit each other's houses, mostly on errands, are obliged to abide by a rather detailed set of rules which circumscribe their movements within the outgroup living quarters. Informal visits by people of approximately equal status call for hosts and guests to be seated on or alongside the front verandah (Thai, rabiaij; Malay, sirambi) near the main entrance of the house. Politeness and hospitality may be expressed by providing mats for these guests to sit on, but this additional gesture is seldom necessary among old acquaintances. Guests of very high status and/or total strangers may be invited to sit in chairs located further back on the elevated central platform of the house (Thai, bon phlaaj; Malay, atas balai), if such facilities exist. The choice of the latter location connotes formality or deference, whereas the former is chosen to express relative informality and/or solidarity. The clients of magic specialists, for instance, are received in the more formal setting, while gambling acquaintances or neighboring farmers use the verandah. With very few exceptions, however, the most private places in a household are the kitchens and sleeping quarters, both of which are hidden from the view of guests. Bedrooms are almost exclusively the domain of the host household members. Kitchens, on the other hand, serve as dining and recreation areas for close friends as well as kinsmen. Prestigious outsiders who eat at the house of the host are served on the raised central platform (the correlation between physical elevation and high social status is obvious).12 The crucial point to be noted here is that Siam and Melayu Villagers almost never enter each other's kitchens, especially while these areas are being used for cooking or eating. In the few instances where Siam Village kitchen floors have been used as gambling areas or places for ritually bathing magicians' clients, the kitchens have temporarily ceased to serve in their primary capacities. Nevertheless, because of their association with food, kitchens are perceived as spatial extensions of ritual pollution and purity. For Melayu Villagers, Siam Village kitchens are tainted because of the pork and other polluted foods consumed within them. Even a cup of coffee prepared in a Thai kitchen may well have come in contact with unclean foods or utensils. Then, too, for Melayu as well as Siam Villagers, the kitchen of a house functions as the "backstage," or the place where household members can dispense with most formalities and plan the performances they wish to present to outsiders (see Goffman, 1959:112). With regard to intervillage relations, the kitchen symbolizes one of the major spatial strongholds of separate social identities in the residential areas of the villages. Yet it is a place where household

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members and their most intimate friends share a large portion of their time together. In the immediate vicinity of their community, Siam Villagers unreservedly communicate with one another in their native tongue irrespective of the ethnic identification of onlookers. It is hardly uncommon to find groups of Siam Villagers chatting among themselves in Thai amidst a crowd of Malay neighbors in a Melayu Village coffee shop. During mahjong games, Thai participants and spectators carry on long verbal interchanges in their own idiom, while Malay visitors sit by excluded from a considerable portion of the ongoing communications process. Malays who frequent the Thai recreation facilities, or who regularly interact with Siam Villagers at the local market or coffee shops, evince no particular frustration in reaction to the unsociable sociolinguistic behavior of their Thai acquaintances. They remark that the Thais are a distinct group of people. Thais speak their own language and the Malays speak theirs. I suggest that over the generations, neighboring Malays have developed rather modest expectations as to how complete their communications with Siam Villagers are to be. The two groups seem to share understandings about which contexts call for the Thais' use of Malay and which do not. These code-switching rules are remarkably effective in compartmentalizing Thai communication into the impersonal realm of interethnic social relations and the more personal realm of ingroup social relations. The linguistic alternation also serves as a continual reminder of contrasting ethnic identities. Social distance is thus preserved without any hurt feelings. In the preceding paragraphs, I have illustrated a great many restrictions adhered to by Siam and Melayu Villagers during everyday intervillage social interaction. The ethnic boundary between the two communities is lined with interactional stop signs in such diverse dimensions as space, time, sex, and language. I shall now demonstrate how these stop signs are disregarded in interactions between individual representatives of widely separated ethnic communities. In their roles as performers, hunters, and magicians, many Siam Village men have established lasting ties of friendship with Malay men living in scattered villages throughout the Kelantan Plain. In a large number of cases, these interethnic relationships are sporadically renewed by means of reciprocal displays of hospitality. Every so often, each party in such a relationship pays a social call on the household of his outgroup associate. While Siam Villagers are likely to pay more visits than they receive, owing to the nature of their symbiotic activities, Malay friends nonetheless continue to show up in the Thai community as occasional guests. Unlike the Melayu Villagers, these men are generally uninformed about, and uncommitted to, the ritual display of ethnic differences. Nor

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are they held accountable by members of their home villages for how they behave in this distant Thai settlement. Most of their interaction with Siam Village friends takes place in areas far removed f r o m the nearest Thai settlement. As a consequence, they remain unfamiliar with many of the means by which Siam Villagers usually signal their ethnic distinctiveness to local Malays. They seldom hear Thais conversing at length among themselves in their own language. Similarly, they are accustomed to spending the night under the same roof with Thai companions. In many cases, longtime Thai friends enjoy access to more private sections of their homes. Then, too, they customarily share the same food. When these outsiders arrive in Siam Village, they lack most of the inhibitions which prevent local Malays from partaking of Siam Village hospitality. They trust that their Thai hosts will not feed them contaminated food. Therefore, they commonly join their hosts for meals in the latter's kitchens. They also spend the night in the homes of their Thai comrades. The Siam Village hosts, for their part, are careful to respect the dietary rules of their guests. Moreover, they exhibit unusual concern for their Malay guests by holding much larger portions of their conversations in Malay (or at least by making an effort to translate most of what is being said in Thai). The content of their interethnic conversations often touches upon subjects which would never be broached in local intervillage communications. With a touristlike curiosity, these Malays inquire about Thai religious observances and horticultural techniques. Many are already quite familiar with boar hunting; therefore, pigs are a topic that can be tactfully discussed. Siam Villagers, of course, are free to respond with questions about Malay customs that they would be too embarrassed to put to neighboring Malays. All in all, these reunions are characterized by a marked deemphasis on the exclusionary aspects of respective ethnic identities. Citing Goffman (1959), Blom (1969:80) describes this kind of behavior as the "undercommunication" of cultural differences. Blom has reported a comparable disregard for ethnic differences among mountain farmers and lowlanders in Norway. The situation described along the Siam-Melayu Village boundary, on the other hand, exemplifies what Blom (1969:80) has called a "poly-ethnic context" in which, " . . . the interaction of the representatives of the discrete units observes and maintains boundaries since all, by their actions, will emphasize their respective ethnic identities—and thereby their mutual cultural differences—in such a way that their relationship is restricted to impersonal or rolespecific forms." In this latter type of situation (like that obtaining between Blom's nomadic Gypsies and lowland peasants) ethnic peculiarities are "overcommunicated" (1969:84). What is especially noteworthy about the present Kelantanese case, however, is the fact that members of

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I95

the very same two ethnic categories will overcommunicate or undercommunicate their cultural differences depending on whether they stem from contiguous ethnic communities." " P U B L I C F A C I L I T I E S " AS FOCI FOR INTERETHNIC INTERACTION

Thus far we have been concerned with those regions of Siam and Melayu Villages which are considered out of bounds for local intervillage social interaction. If, for example, a single Melayu Villager were seen entering the kitchen of a Siam Village house, suspicions would be aroused among his fellow villagers regarding the morality of his intentions. As a rule, members of both communities normally enter neighboring outgroup household compounds only when they have specific errands to perform. I noted earlier that Siam Villagers seldom remain long in Melayu Village unless they are waiting to have their rice milled or taking some refreshments at a coffee shop. These two activities take place at the only recognized "public facilities" (local Thai, kh^rj suan klaan; local Malay, kamudaht rama-rama) in the Malay village, aside from the Muslim prayer chapel which is off limits for non-Muslims. The Thai village, though much smaller in area, affords outsiders numerous public places to congregate, and for a wide variety of reasons. These dissimilar accomodations for outsiders reflect the contrasting socioeconomic orientations of the two communities toward the outside world. The colorful Thai temple compound, for instance, contains plentiful benches and even a pavilion for visitors to pause and rest on. In contrast, the austere Malay prayer chapel does not invite passersby to linger alongside its somber grey walls. At the time of my stay in Kelantan, there were two shop houses and a food stall along the public road curving through Siam Village. All of these structures were equipped with sheltered benches for passersby and customers to sit on before continuing their journeys on down the road to their destinations in other villages. During especially hot or rainy days, it was common practice even for total strangers to take shelter for a few minutes in front of these structures. Besides these three resting places, there were three Thai or ThaiChinese households along the road that seemed to entertain a steady stream of visitors from the outside. Two of these households sold toddy or homemade rice whiskey. The third belonged to a very gregarious Chinese who welcomed visitors to stop in and chat on his porch while he and his family manufactured and sold kerosene lamps. These six structures were the major foci for all Thai-Malay interaction in Siam Village save for gambling activities, consultations with charm specialists, and visits from intimate outsiders. The choice of these shops as gathering places was by no means a random phenomenon. All six of the preceding structures share certain simple but essential

196

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features in common. Namely, they are located on the edge of the public road, their main entrances and verandahs face the road, and their owners stand to profit economically from frequent visits by outsiders. At first sight, it would seern perfectly natural for passersby to gravitate to those structures which are closest to the public road. This is certainly the case in Melayu Village where all coffee shops, sundries stores, and rice mills are situated along the edge of the road. But how is it that only a few of the many Thai houses that are located next to the road have become public gathering places for all ethnic groups? To fully answer this question, it is necessary to examine some of the local Thai customs relating to the placement and orientation of houses in the village. Although Siam Villagers can no longer explain just why they do so, they continue to orient their nonreligious residential structures toward the east (see Map 3). That is to say, the principal entrance and verandah of a typical Siam Village home will face east if constructed according to traditional Thai specifications. Chinese and Malays, in contrast, are wont to orient their houses toward existing roads, footpaths, or waterways for the sake of convenient access. Some of the present structures in Siam Village were built prior to the extension of the public road which now winds through the village. Even those which were built in subsequent decades are located within compounds which were already delineated before the road was constructed. Purely by chance, households found themselves on the east, west, north, or south sides of the curving public transportation artery. Those located on homestead plots along the western edge automatically faced the road, whereas those on the eastern edge were left with their backs to the road. Even those home builders desiring secondary entrances were careful not to place them on the west side of their houses, for it was believed that malevolent spirits entered people's homes from the west. Doors on the west side were referred to a s p r a t u u p h i i , or "spirit doors." These customs, though no longer taken very seriously, have changed little among the modern inhabitants of Siam Village, except where the influence of Chinese friends or in-laws has predominated. The only homes which violate the eastward orientation rule are the two shop houses and the home of the Chinese oil-lamp maker. The larger shop house is owned by a widowed Thai woman whose Chinese son-in-law initially organized her sundries store. Her home once faced away from the road, like all other Thai homes on the eastern edge, but her son-in-law had the plan of the house changed when he added a concrete kitchen and shop annex. As a result, the overall orientation of the structure is now toward the road to the west, and most visitors enter the home through the store. The other two anomalous structures were built by Thai-Chinese who have disregarded this particular Thai custom.

a p p r o x . 5 0 0 yar to next M a l a y village

dwelling (facing east) O shop house A food stall - rice paddy =

dirt road - g a t h e r i n g place

Melayu Village Temple compound

MAP 3. Public Gathering Places in Siam Village for Passersby of All Ethnic Groups

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COGNITIVE, SOCIAL, AND SPATIAL PARAMETERS

The two remaining houses which constitute public gathering places for passersby are located directly west of the road and, therefore, violate no orientation norms. I would suggest that these households' orientations to the road were at least partly responsible for their appeal to outside visitors and, consequently, for their commercial success as suppliers of illicit beverages. But what of the several other Siam Village houses which, to varying degrees, face in the direction of passersby on the road? Why have these other structures failed to become public gathering places? The answers to these questions rest with economic rather than geographical orientations. In the first place, none of the inhabitants of these households stands to profit economically from frequent interactions with passersby. In three cases the household heads are magicians and/or gambling hosts who provide services for outsiders, but whose services call for privacy. For these households, exposure to public traffic would be counterproductive. Others cite the old Thai proverb that too many visitors will consume all of one's tobacco and betel leaves. These households have accordingly opted for reduced accessibility. Privacy for roadside houses is achieved by various culturally prescribed methods. A household may construct a fence, or better yet, create a visual barrier by planting trees along the road. When new structures are being built, they may be placed at the corner of the homestead plot which is farthest from the road. By means of these and other strategies, villagers are able to inform passersby with nonverbal cues that the latter are not overly welcome to congregate in their compounds. It is apparent, then, that the location of a Siam Village house in relation to the road may influence the varieties of services which its inhabitants can provide for outsiders. Not uncommonly, those Thai villagers whose homes are the most isolated will fare less well in the competition for magic clients. Nor will they be able to convert their homes into shop houses. On the other hand, their homes may attract greater numbers of gamblers and violators of fasting rules. There is a tendency among those villagers living further from the road to spend more of their time away from their houses, whereas those living along the road may experience continual interaction with outsiders without straying much from their compounds. The influence of house location on the social and economic activities of individual inhabitants must not be underestimated. Passive types of Siam Villagers dwelling in the interior may be deprived of social and educational opportunities enjoyed by those living closer to public gathering places. Not only do they interact with fewer outsiders, but their daughters marry fewer outgroup spouses, and their knowledge of Malay language and culture remains below par. Let us return for a moment to the class of interethnic gathering places designated as "public facilities." These "places" might more correctly

COGNITIVE, SOCIAL, AND SPATIAL PARAMETERS

I99

be called "contexts" for various conventionalized forms of interethnic social encounters. Some facilities like the mahjong shed or shop houses are intended as semipermanent sites for intergroup activities. In contrast, many a private home can be converted into a temporary public facility for the pleasure of gamblers. In every instance where the property of individuals is being used, however, some sort of economic transaction is meant to take place. The owners or hosts, in one way or another, are expected to extract a profit in return for services rendered to outsiders. Under such circumstances Malay and Thai neighbors are free to interact on a longterm basis without being compelled to relate to one another on a strictly personal level. I would speculate that the rigid seating arrangements at mahjong games, for instance, reflect the wishes of all participants to preserve a miminum degree of social distance within the most common of social interactions; an individual's place at a mahjong table immediately identifies him as a member of a particular ethnic category. Similarly, the place where he is entertained in the house of an outgroup neighbor signals recognized social barriers. Only a total outsider who is uncommitted to the maintenance of the local ethnic boundary may proceed from the public facilities into the private "ethnic space" of the outgroup village. Those who penetrate this inner realm of outgroup social life must relate to their hosts as whole persons rather than as occupants of contrasting social statuses. CONCLUSION TO P A R T I I I

Let us briefly review the principal ideas introduced in the last four chapters. We saw in Part Two how the Siam Villagers have gradually pieced together a gainful, if unconventional, socioeconomic role for themselves in their culturally plural environment. The success of their adaptive strategy has largely been due to the careful management of their ethnic image. By consciously endeavoring to live up to, and even to accentuate, specific traits of their stereotyped identity—for example, trustworthiness, reticence, and magical expertise—they have enhanced their appeal as "brokers of morality." To draw upon resources from an expansive ecological niche, the villagers have fostered an effective communications network among Malay associates by avoiding overt competition with outgroup neighbors, by maintaining an appearance of relative material impoverishment to gain the sympathies of those neighbors, and by indirectly reciprocating the thoughtfulness of outsiders who assist them. Crucial visibility has also been achieved through the development of complementary microcultural traits—for example, the cultivation of needed tobacco and vegetable surpluses, the rejection of double-cropping and buffalo-raising, and the repudiation of certain fears regarding supernatural forces—which encourage local economic in-

200

COGNITIVE, SOCIAL, AND SPATIAL PARAMETERS

terdependence. Finally, the elaboration or intensification of fundamental Kelantanese Thai cultural practices—for example, the observance of Buddhist rituals, the preservation of the Thai language, and the breeding of pigs—has assured the continuity of long-standing Thai traditions while emphatically signaling the villagers' stand against sociocultural engulfment by the Malay majority. The ceremonial bonds among Kelantan's scattered Thai villages should also be regarded as part of a movement to preserve the core traditions around which Thai cultural identity has been shaped. As I noted in chapter 5, temple fairs not only serve as contexts for villagers to find ingroup spouses and renew ingroup friendships, but these festivities also permit small communities of Thais to organize or attend large-scale cultural activities which would otherwise die out for want of funds or personnel. The emphasis at these socioreligious functions, however, is on the commemoration of the cultural origins of all Kelantanese Thai villages, not necessarily on ethnic contrasts maintained between Thais and Malays in individual community settings. Because the activities of most outside Thai attenders are restricted to the ceremonial and recreational spheres, few opportunities arise for in-depth inquiries into the heterogeneous nature of individual village economies or value orientations. Many of those localized variations of Thai cultural behavior which play so important a role in symbolically reinforcing boundaries between adjacent ethnic communities cease to be matters of great concern when divorced from their immediate interethnic social context. What is recognized as emphatically "Thai" behavior when dealing with contiguous Malay settlements, may simply be interpreted as minor socioeconomic peculiarities by outside representatives of the Thai cultural category. In a similar fashion, the dichotomous cultural contrasts which effectively regulate and restrict interaction between adjacent ethnic aggregates like Siam and Melayu Villages commonly lack validity as structural bases for interaction between individual Thais and Malays from more widely separated communities. The latter interactants are freer to cement primary social relationships across ethnic boundaries. They may express social solidarity by eating and sleeping at each other's houses, discussing sensitive topics like religious and dietary customs, and generally playing down most cultural differences. It should be kept in mind that Siam Village is not an entirely typical Kelantanese Thai community. Besides having relatively few inhabitants, it is well removed from those areas of Thai population concentration along the Malaysia-Thailand border. As a tiny Thai minority in a predominantly Malay milieu, Siam Villagers are accustomed to interacting with neighboring Malays on a regular basis in a wide variety of contexts. Moreover, Siam Village has had to cope with severe land shortages that

COGNITIVE, SOCIAL, AND SPATIAL PARAMETERS

201

compel its inhabitants to turn outward for additional sources of income. The village has inevitably faced more intense pressures for assimilation to the Malay majority culture than have Thai communities which cluster together. Predictably, the Siam Villagers have absorbed willy-nilly many of the cognitive, behavioral, and material characteristics of their Malay cultural surroundings. Students of ethnicity (see, for example, Ross, 1975:56) have generally recognized that those members of a stereotyped category who come in more frequent contact with members of contrasting outgroup categories are inclined to develop a stronger sense of ingroup identification. Although the Siam Villagers have acquired rather remarkable bicultural skills, they continue to emphasize their separate ethnic identity in most interactions with nearby Malay neighbors. The display of local Thai individuality is accomplished through a limited number of standardized focal behaviors in such realms of activity as agriculture, religious observance, speech, and food consumption. With this small collection of identity markers, the Siam Villager maintain a satisfying semblance of cultural distinctiveness while their culture steadily converges with that of surrounding Malays at a more profound level. The findings of this study suggest that the preservation of cultural pluralism can lead to, rather than hinder, interethnic economic integration. Ethnic traits do more than delineate social boundaries; their variable nature can facilitate the structuring of symbiotic relations between groups. The mosaic of ethnic groups in a society is continually being transformed as new complementary socioeconomic roles arise. These roles may be viewed as the individual tesserae of the societal mural. If they are to be inlaid tightly together, they must be sealed with a pliable putty composed of many ad hoc cultural contrasts. Only recently have anthropologists begun to focus their attention on relations between contiguous rural ethnic communities (see, for example, Cole and Wolf, 1974). Many interesting data remain to be collected about the adjustments made by neighboring nonelite cultural groups. To fully comprehend the extent to which members of different ethnic categories actually interact, however, one must be prepared to investigate marginal activities of individuals in out-of-the-way places. Formal surveys or interviews by outsiders do not turn up much information about interethnic marriages, magical practice, or taboo violations. In the case of Siam Village, these sometimes "marginal" social phenomena serve as bases for much sustained interethnic social interaction.

Notes

CHAPTER 1 1. 2. 3. 4.

5.

6.

7. 8.

9. 10.

11.

This and other fictitious names for places anci people will be used to protect my informants' privacy. Also a fictitious name. Including some of the earlier mentioned nonconformists. The same thing is true for membership in the village. The only village census ever conducted by a Siam Villager included all villagers who had emigrated or married out, even decades before. For example, budu (anchovy paste), nasi kSrabu (rice mixed with herbs, spices, and grated fish, and often dyed grey), and nasi dagang (reddish glutinous rice mixed with coconut oil and served with curry), and so forth. Most of the Chinese immigrants who entered Malaya in the last two centuries did so through the ports of the west coast. There have, of course, been small settlements of Chinese in Kelantan for several centuries. These people are the descendants of early gold miners and spice cultivators who originally arrived by sea. (See further details in chapters 3 and 4.) As will be discussed on pp. 105-106, herein. By "educated elite" 1 mean villagers who have served for many years in the Buddhist monkhood and who, during those years, have achieved considerable literacy in Standard Thai. Also included in this category would be a few young Thai school teachers who enjoy a command of the literary Malay language. All remain inhabitants of rural Thai communities. See Nash (1974b:75) and Downs (1967:131 ff.) for discussions of Kelantanese rural administration. The people who initiate a n d / o r supervise such cooperative activities as building or road construction, animal slaughter, hunting, temple decorating, and so on, are also those tacitly acknowledged to have the most skill and experience. Kelantanese Malay villagers also lack any clear-cut political organization on the village level. They seem even harder to mobilize for community projects since they have no alternative bases for such social commitments. Downs (1960:60-61) writes:

NOTES

20

The village organization also has a restraining effect, for while its diffuseness leaves the village relatively open to outside influences, reducing the community commitments of its members to a minimum, t h e lack of any well-defined political institutions makes it extremely difficult for the villagers to undertake activities on a community basis. Thus, for example, in one case known to the writer, it was impossible to get any concerted action on a local irrigation project which would have brought considerable economic benefit t o the village in question, in spile of the fact that the great majority of the inhabitants favored it. 12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

18.

19. 20,

Sec J. M . Brown (1965:135, 179, 180) regarding its classification. Other Thais also note that this dialect has elements of royal language in everyday usages. This local usage of the term nagleeq is akin to its secondary meaning in Thailand; namely, a " c o m p e t e n t , bold or sporting p e r s o n . " But in contemporary Thailand the term m o r e often designates a " r o g u e " or " h o o d l u m . " Unlike " t r i b a l " or " r a c i a l " ethnic groups, " n a t i o n a l " ethnic groups are said to be associated with a foreign country. In Kelantan, Thais are lumped together with Chinese and Indians as non-Malay aliens. Under the Malay Reservations Act, they have been prohibited f r o m purchasing land f r o m Malay subjects of the Kelantanese Sultan (that is, most of their neighbors) since 1930. Moreover, they are given low priority when applying for government jobs or scholarships. Today most Malay youths learn the national language in the schools and speak it quite fluently, but seldom does a Taag Baj Malay speak the local Thai dialect. During the periods of Malay political supremacy in the Patani area, there was probably greater pressure exerted on the Taag Baj Thais to learn some Malay. That might explain why the Taag Baj dialect is so full of " M a l a y i s m s " even though its speakers know little or no Malay. Then again, constant contact with bilingual Thais to the south could have been an important influence. Taag Baj villagers chew tobacco but seldom smoke it. Nine out of ten adults over thirty-five are heavy smokers at Siam Village. O n two different occasions when I visited Sungai Golok with villagers, they chose to take snacks at Malay shops rather than at Chinese or central Thai shops. Articles frequently purchased at Sungai Golok include: inexpensive kitchen utensils, thermos jars, cotton shirts f r o m Chiengmai, fruits like grapes and pomelos, garden seeds, Thai medicines, temple ornaments, Thai newspapers (mostly for the monks), and fashion magazines.

21.

Those who read Standard Thai are m o r e likely to understand it when listening to the radio. Perhaps a third of the adult Siam Villagers are literate enough in Standard Thai to enjoy certain varieties of light reading matter. Most men who have served as monks for more than a couple of years are reasonably literate. See p. 161 f o r further discussion of literacy in Standard Thai. Brown (1965:179), in reconstructing the evolution of modern Thai dialects, implies that old Taag Baj Thai must have diverged f r o m the ancestor of all other southern Thai dialects centuries ago.

22,

Kelantanese Malay men exhibit much more macho though they consume far less alcohol!

behavior as a rule, even

CHAPTER 2 1

As Gullick (1958:44) explains, the head of the political system of each Malay state could be referred to as Yang di-Pertuan (He who is made lord), Raja (Hindu ruler), or Sultan (Arabic ruler).

NOTES 2. 3.

4.

5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18.

205 Even in 1974, the only government taxes were annual land taxes: M$2 per acre for rice land and M$5 for rubber land. Downs (1967:120) notes that the population of Kelantan increased by 76.3 percent between 1911 and 1957, from 286,751 to 505,585. By 1970 it stood at 686,266. In Kelantan, at least, local Thais have not been included with those "aboriginal and tribal peoples" who are so often classified as " M a l a y " in national censuses. Nagata (1974:335) provides an accurate cultural definition of a " M a l a y " as: " . . . one who is a Muslim, habitually speaks the Malay language, and follows Malay custom or adat." A full-fledged Malay subject of the Kelantanese sultan must furthermore have at least one direct ancestor who was Malay and born in Kelantan. Interestingly, there are several families in Melayu Village and other neighboring Malay villages who are legally Kelantanese Malays, but who can still be identified as the descendants of local Thais (and perhaps Chinese Babas) who converted to Islam. The clue is the patrilineal prefix " C h e " before their Malay names. Though many of these Malays are dropping the " C h e " nowadays, it is still quite commonly encountered. Even in recent times, Thais who become Muslims usually adopt a Malay name with this prefix. Thais are wont to comment that those Malays with " C h e " names have no longer ancestry in Kelantan than the majority of the Thais, but because of their religious affiliation they enjoy greater privileges. All unclaimed land in the vicinity of Siam Village officially became Malay Reserve land. Meanwhile, Chinese owners sat back and watched their land rapidly increase in value. Siam Villagers also say that they might sell land to fellow Thais on credit, where Malay buyers would have to pay cash. In times of emergency when a Thai badly needs cash, he may sell a parcel of land to Malays in secret, if he knows that no other Thais have access to any ready cash. Such a move is unpopular among neighbors, but no disapproval is openly voiced to the seller's face; rather, it is eventually accepted as a necessary fact of life. There are many references to such migrations in the literature: see, for example, Hill (1951:56) and Downs (1960:61). Where members of a household own part shares in parcels of land, I have included only the fraction that they legally can claim as individuals. If, for example, three men from different households share title to a five-acre plot, I calculated each man's share, or 1.67 acres, to be part of his household's holdings. These seventeen people include: six monks, six temple boys, four nuns, and one old vagrant. In other neighboring Malay villages there are a handful of Indian Muslims. Fewer Malay men now go to tap rubber during the dry season in Naraathiwaad. One acre, they say, should yield approximately 750 to 900 catties (1,000 to 1,200 pounds) of milled rice each year. The average household, then, would consume a little over a ton of milled rice per year. The zakat and fit rah, both paid at the end of the fasting month. For a fixed sum of cash or quantity of rice. There are, of course, a few households in each village which contain only one or two people, and can grow sufficient food on less than two acres of land. Malay youths, whose job opportunities are fewer, and who usually marry earlier,

206

19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

24.

25.

26.

27. 28.

29.

30.

NOTES are more tied to the land. Many more Malays than Thais also accept employment as rubber-tappers. Hired Malay labor, on the other hand, is paid for in cash. For example, when untimely rains threatened ripe grain prior to harvesting. Kam is the Thai term. The Malay term is ikat, meaning "tied-up bundle." See, for example, Foster, 1974. Many Siam Village men, however, used to be specialists in carpentry, and especially, in the construction of traditional wooden houses. Thais report that in the past there was a greater demand for Siam Village craftsmen, because fewer Malays then had access to such vocational training. Thai men, on the other hand, often gained practical experience at the temple working under some acknowledged local expert. Monks, too, learned such skills. Apparently, each village concentrated its talents on one or two of these craft specialities. Even today, about ten Siam Village men possess many of the carpentry skills of their forebears, though only four of them still occasionally augment their incomes building houses. Their vocational heritage is still reflected, nonetheless, in the craftsmanship manifested in many of their own homes. At times the quality of the construction is misleading in that it suggests greater wealth than the occupants actually enjoy. These same men have also participated in the construction of all new temple compound structures. Concurrently, commercial snacks began appearing in local markets. All Kelantanese have customarily appeased young children with frequent sweets. With the replacement of homemade snacks by Chinese-manufactured commercial varieties, such indulgence became a costly habit. In time, coffee and commercial cigarettes also began to sell well in the villages. I found, as did Rosemary Firth (1966:177) in 1940, that in households with children, up to 30 percent of the weekly cash expenditures went for the purchase of snacks, coffee, and cigarettes. During the early decades of the twentieth century, throughout British Malaya, the Chinese were the only group who showed much interest in tobacco production. A catty (or kati in Malay; cha/j in local Thai) is a common unit of weight introduced by the Chinese into Southeast Asia, and is equivalent to approximately one and one-third pounds. Nowadays, Siam Villagers sell their tobacco in small, folded, rectangular sheets—another custom borrowed from Chinese neighbors. Siam Villagers describe their tobacco as being maw, a term roughly meaning "pleasantly strong-tasting, having a special g u s t o . " Other time-consuming duties of a tobacco cultivator include: priming (removing basal leaves to permit air to pass freely by the plant at ground level—usually done when the plants are not quite two feet high); spreading palm fronds along the ground to protect each plant from parasites in the soil; tying up the lower leaves to prevent contact with the ground; reinforcing the ridges onto which plants have been transplanted to avoid inundation by rains. For further details on tobacco cultivation in Malaya, see Department of Agriculture leaflet, 1935. Villagers deny that a household can " c o m f o r t a b l y " cultivate tobacco intensively during the dry season and still have sufficient time and manpower to double-crop their paddy. Westerners and Chinese might find that hard to understand, for leisure is not as highly valued in their societies. Thai villagers see little value in excessive labor, even when it affords one a better standard of living. They admire the Chinese for their industry, but do not emulate them in that respect. Hereafter, " d o l l a r s " will only refer to Malaysian dollars (ringgit). The symbol

NOTES

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

37. 38.

39. 40.

41.

42. 43.

207 " M $ " will represent Malaysian dollars. At the time of this study MS2.3 were approximately equivalent to U.S.Sl .00. In 1974, thirty-seven Melayu Village households (or 29.6 percent) owned rubber land, and almost two-thirds of the adult men in Melayu Village had tapped rubber for a living at one time or another. Both Malays and Thais distinguish these two types of land linguistically, especially when queried about what holdings they have. Paddy land is din naa in Thai and tanji padi in local Malay. Elevated garden land is din suan and tan^h ksborj, respectively. Only seven Siam Village households (17.7 percent) own rubber land, compared with Melayu Village's thirty-seven (29.6 percent). Many of the Malay holdings are also much larger. Some Melayu Village men have spent years in the border provinces of southern Thailand doing such work. Curiously, Taag Baj Thais also have never become interested in rubber tapping, despite the wide development of that industry in their area. It is not unreasonable to assume that over the last three generations, Siam Villagers have not only developed more efficient techniques to cope with local environmental problems, but have also developed hardier, locally adapted strains of tobacco through yearly selection of seeds from the best plants. Here again we have an instance of communications restrictions preventing Siam Villagers from establishing contacts with this distant government tobacco company via their Melayu Village neighbors. Within Siam Village there are areas where commercial tobacco might be grown, especially some of the recently developed strains. Later, on p. 107, we shall see that it is almost imperative that Chinese companies be the ones to take the initiative in approaching Thai cultivators. Noncommercial tobacco prices do fluctuate seasonally, however. Note that many paddy fields do dry up sufficiently for cows to graze in them, especially during the months preceding the onset of a new rainy season. But cows also lack the digestive equipment to eat many of the coarser weeds and grasses which buffalos can eat. Buffalos will also eat much more of the rice stumps than cows. It is common right after the harvest season to see cows grazing on the narrow, elevated bunds surrounding damp paddies, where buffalos are busy wallowing and munching. We shall see later that, throughout the year, cows depend more heavily on fodder fetched by humans. The reasons for the Thais having given up raising water buffalos are discussed in chapter 7. When asked why they do not encourage Malays to sharecrop on their land during the dry season, Siam Villagers reply that their land would be quickly drained of its nutrients. Since the landowner in a sharecropping arrangement is obliged to provide additional fertilizer, his profits are greatly reduced. There never developed a system of crop rotation or alternating fallow years (see Dobby, 1951:245). Recent government programs have persuaded some Siam and Melayu Villagers of the necessity for improving their yields; thus, a few have been experimenting of late with modest quantities of chemical fertilizers when they can afford to do so. They are fully aware of the superior quality of the more expensive synthetic fertilizers. This prohibition on the use of manure may partially explain the lack of Malay interest in horticulture, where such fertilizer is practically indispensable. It is usually necessary to hire a truck or van to haul large shipments from more

208

44.

45.

46. 47. 48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54. 55.

NOTES distant villages. Sometimes, if Siam Villagers are offered free cow manure by distant Malay villagers, it pays to rent a vehicle instead of paying for local supplies. In one such instance which I witnessed, the cost of the truck was M$12 for one afternoon. It is a tradition among Kelantanese of all ethnic groups that landless villagers should be permitted to grow vegetables on neighbors' vacant plots without paying any rent or sharecropping. Moreover, because of inadequate irrigation facilities for garden land in the dry season, vegetable crops are impossible to stagger in any predictable way. When it rains, they grow. As a result, everyone's crop ripens at the same time creating a glut on the market. It is not unusual to find piles of watermelons and squash rotting because there is no demand for them. In mid-1974, villagers were paying M$12 or M$13 per pikul (=133 lb.) for bran. The larger mills charge more than the smaller, portable Japanese mills. The larger mills do a better job of polishing rice grains and break fewer of them. This is the Malay term. The Thai term is thanaan. There is no single Thai lexeme for padi, but Thais commonly make the Malay distinction between padi and beras (husked, uncooked rice), using the terms khaaw plyag and khaaw saan, respectively. The Malay term nasi (cooked rice) is translated as khaaw kin. Women do almost all of the reaping. It is believed that, because of their more agile hands, they become more proficient than men at this activity. Both sexes thresh. In recent years the only households who have managed to sell some rice for a profit are those with few inhabitants and a lot of land. Only a succession of bumper crops would increase such sales, for most villagers prefer to store surplus grain for insurance against crop failure. Most households also have obligations to share their surpluses with less fortunate relatives. As in many other parts of Southeast Asia, increased population density has meant that villagers can no longer depend on their rice paddies and adjacent streams for regular sources of protein like fish, shrimp, and crabs. Only those villagers who cannot afford to buy saltwater fish spend considerable amounts of time fishing in the paddies. Young boys may also contribute to their families' provisions by catching small paddy fish and hunting small game like squirrels, pangolins, fruit bats, and civet cats. Only about one out of ten pedicab drivers was Thai; the rest were Malay. But when Thais could, they showed preference for ingroup drivers, apparently without offending Malay drivers who had been waiting ahead of the Thai drivers in line. This pattern in social relations would seem to support Furnivall's (1948) hypothesis that interaction between the various cultural sections of a plural society like that of Malaysia is confined primarily to the "market place," or economic activities. Of course no Chinese, except the Thai-Chinese of Siam Village, live in the vicinity of Melayu Village. The Thais, on the other hand, often remark about how untidy their Malay neighbors are. Berreman (1972:575) has termed this behavior "mutual status degradation" whereby each group affirms its own status by disparaging the way of life of the other. As an outsider, I could discern little variation in the upkeep of the two communities, except perhaps for the different kinds of animal feces found along the roads and paths. I trust that the reader will not find this too scatological!

NOTES 56. 57.

58. 59.

209 This element of trust plays an important role in services Thais provide for outgroups. I recall only one instance when Siam Villagers were genuinely vexed by actions of Melayu Villagers. More than a decade ago, before a regular government elementary school was established in the area, Melayu and Siam Villagers received permission and financial support from the Ministry of Education to set up a secular, Malay-language school to be staffed by village youths who had completed at least six years of formal education. Three teaching positions were open, and perhaps the most qualified candidate was a Thai youth who had successfully completed nine years of Malay schooling in another district. Although he was permitted to teach in the school, he was not nominated for a salaried position by the Melayu Village elders, who gave priority to their own sons. The Malay teachers generously offered to share part of their salaries with the Thai, but he eventually quit in humiliation. As a gesture of support, the twenty-odd Siam Village children who had enrolled in the school quietly withdrew. Some time later a separate class for Thai pupils was funded at the Thai temple. The same man was hired to teach written Malay in this class. As of 1974 he was still teaching unschooled Siam Villagers to read Malay during three evenings each week. Only one Siam Village youth thus far has studied to the Form Five, or upper-secondary school level. One exception to this rule may occur when an infrequent Malay villager leaves some produce like manioc at the Thai sundries shop to be sold on commission (usually 20 percent). But it is far more common for Thais to leave their produce at the several neighboring Malay shops under the same arrangement. CHAPTER 3

1.

2. 3. 4.

5.

6. 7.

8.

This is a transcription of the literary Thai term. In southern Thai dialects the shortened form nooraa is used to designate both the dance drama and a master performer of the art. The latter form is often prefixed to the personal name of the performer. In Malaysia, the name of the dance drama is spelled "menora" or "manora" by local writers and scholars. In local Thai; "baan myatj amaaj nagleerj, amaaj khwan." In local Malay; "kaporj t^q ad^pament, lytj ad^samatjaq." See, for example, Brandon, 1967; Ginsburg, 1972; Sheppard, 1973. Apparently, Taag Baj Thais have failed to establish any permanent manooraa troupes in their area because of their inability to entertain in the language of their Malay neighbors. Actually, the two idioms are different in several ways: makyong performers are more likely to be women whereas manooraa players were traditionally all men (though some women do assume the women's roles today); the costumes differ, reflecting different historical traditions; the manooraa requires more musical instruments; and, especially nowadays, the two idioms rely on different kinds of patronage. Nor are makyong performers and shadow puppeteers assumed to possess any particular occult powers. Once in a long while, manooraa or makyong troupes also may construct small theaters surrounded by fences and charge entrance fees. Such enterprises, known as root; wad in local Thai and paga takvq in Kelantanese Malay, do not seem to produce much profit. Such lessons even proved to be a financial burden for the master. He seldom received gifts, but was often called upon to provide refreshments for visiting

21

9.

10. 11. 12.

13.

14. 15. 16.

17. 18.

19. 20.

21. 22.

23. 24.

25. 26.

NOTES pupils. Musicians who were called in for rehearsals also consumed much of the instructor's tobacco and betel. Because the principal roles in a manooraa drama are occupied by players with youthful good looks, talented but aging performers are usually relegated to minor parts or limit their participation to the role of the spirit doctor or conjurer who performs the invocation. After the age of forty or so, veteran players may also assume the roles of teachers and/or business managers. Age is reckoned by the number of Thai calendar years in which one has lived. Thus at the beginning of each new Thai year, everyone becomes one year older. Villagers are also confused and intimidated by recent state laws requiring manooraa performers to apply for entertainment licenses at government offices. In a personal communication, Professor Robert Textor has suggested that this ritual obeisance to the teachers of the performer, both dead and alive, and to the teachers of his teachers, probably serves to alleviate the anxiety which accompanies any manooraa performance. Were the ritual not conducted, a "secondary" anxiety would be engendered. The ritual is called the oaan khrob ssad, or the ceremony in which the initiate receives his crown, the symbol of nooraa status. Thereafter he is entitled to teach his own followers. Note the similarly hierarchical structure of these two institutions in an otherwise egalitarian society. Three of these former pupils have reportedly furthered their careers abroad, in such places as Ceylon, India, Bangkok, and even a Thai temple in Los Angeles. I never actually encountered any female love-charm specialists, but villagers mentioned one very well-known one who died almost fifty years before. I do not attribute such reports to envious gossip. See, for example, Raybeck, 1974:228. See, for example, Downs, 1967:145, Nash, 1974b:36-38, Raybeck, 1974:228. Or they do not admit that they do so. I might add that they seldom disclosed such secrets to any of their Thai neighbors either. Nor did they wish to discuss every case with me. However, when they learned that I was interested in their practices, they would usually notify me that a client had arrived. I was sometimes permitted to observe consultations. Ironically, people frequently call upon the abbot for such assistance, even though he is supposed to be spiritually removed from romantic matters. It is not my intention here to provide a detailed description of such rituals. They are practically identical in many ways to those of Malay practitioners except for the incantations and religious objects. Moreover, some magicians claim that they can prepare charms on the spot, without their usual paraphernalia, if they are far from home. Only the incantations are essential and they "are in the mind." Loosely speaking, hate medicine is sinful whereas forgetting medicine is only undesirable. Figures are not available to indicate the average annual income of Siam Village households. Villagers generally declined to estimate their overall incomes, and were not in the habit of calculating how much cash they received over a given period of time. Those who worked as construction workers (full-time) brought home between M$100 and MS250 per month, depending on their skills. These wages were supplemented by the cash received from the sale of agricultural products like tobacco, vegetables, and rice, and household income deriving from other services provided for outgroup associates (see chapter 4).

N(

211

27

It is said that these villagers have never cultivated more land than they can guard. Apropos depredations of forest animals in former times, see Firth, 1974a: 192 and Downs, 1967:171. O f course, if the Malays catch a boar in the act of raiding their gardens, they will shoot it on the spot. The Malaysian authorities may still doubt their loyalty to the Malaysian nation. Some Siam Villagers also admit that the cost of rifles and licenses is prohibitive. Moreover, they would be under constant pressure to lend their guns to their neighbors. In Standard Malay, hantu hutan. Many Malays attribute supernatural powers to objects which have come in contact with, or have been fashioned from, parts of dead boars. Gimlette (1920:116-118) describes the use of boar hair and tusks in the manufacture of amulets. In the past, Kelantanese Thai magic practitioners apparently received many requests from Malays for charms of this kind. It is quite common in the ethnographic literature to find magical powers associated with unclean animals (see, for example, Steiner, 1967:66). For further information on Malay avoidance of contact with swine, see Skeat, 1966:188-189. Even highly educated Malays may harbor beliefs about the physical dangers in eating well-cooked pork or foods which have come in contact with lard or pork. The notion of "forbidden money" received as profit from sinful activities is very widespread in Kelantan. Siam Villagers once presented about a hundred dollars to a Melayu Village midwife as an expression of their gratitude. The money was meant as a donation toward the old woman's pilgrimage to Mecca. But Melayu Village elders encouraged her to refuse the gift, arguing that so holy a mission could not be sponsored by money made from the sale o f pigs. One older Thai-Chinese Siam Villager reported that as a young man he had trapped boars for sale to Thais in other villages. The tapir is an ungulate but not a ruminant. Malays, in fact, sometimes refer to it as a kind of pig. Simblleh, or Malay ritual slaughter, entails cutting the throat of the animal while it is still alive. Siam Villagers claim that Malay neighbors will often eat an animal which has died in an accident if there are no witnesses to deny that the animal was not first ritually slaughtered (see also, Fraser, 1960:75). Urban Chinese did not share the Thais' enthusiasm for these more exotic delicacies, so there was also no market for them. Once I watched Siam Villagers butchering a mampus Malay water buffalo in a Melayu Villager's rice field. After several Melayu Villagers had inspected the dead animal, they abandoned the scene entirely, whereupon the Thais came and took over. Malay hunting companions, on the other hand, will often look on while Thais butcher and roast haram animals. Thais describe the taste of pork by comparing it with the moSt savory parts of a cow. They say that since pork is a fatty meat, it resembles the tender, tasty beef of a fattened calf. See Gosling, 1964:213-214 for an account of similar developments among Trengganu's Baba Chinese. Dr. Roger Kershaw, in a personal communication, first made me aware of the lack of literacy among the local Chinese and the need that Thai Buddhism has been able to fill in this context. The tiny feet, no doubt, reflect their custom of wearing shoes in urban environments, rather than the ancient custom o f binding women's feet.

28.

29. 30.

31. 32.

33.

34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39.

40.

41.

42.

21

NOTES

43

The Chinese are obviously drawn in greater numbers to those temples which house the most famous monks. Those temples, in turn, become the most prosperous. Where a temple lacks a prominent abbot, efforts are made to attract patronage in other ways, such as in the construction of monuments or relics. One village is currently building a 43-yard-long reclining Buddha. It is especially interesting to watch urban Chinese negotiating a tactful withdrawal after the services when most other guests ordinarily partake of the festive delicacies, like tapir meat, which the townsfolk consider unpalatable. In central Thai, takrud.

44

45 46. 47, 48.

49. 50.

51.

The Thais describe their roles here as chuaj 7aw bun duaj kabphra?, or "acting along with the monks as recipients of worshippers' charity." She was a very pretty girl in her late teens and her presence in the temple compound must have created emotional complications for the celibate monks. Siam Villagers have not buried a member of their village for several decades. Older villages remember, however, that in the past, those who died of unnatural causes—for example, suicides, murder victims, victims of childhood diseases, and so on—might be buried. I witnessed only one funeral of a suicide, that of a young Thai-Chinese man. His relatives (some of whom lived in Siam Village) chose to cremate him quickly without any elaborate ceremony. Most of the rural Chinese who participate as regular parishioners in Siam Village religious activities accept the Theravada Buddhist custom of cremating those who die of natural causes. Occasionally, a Chinese family (especially a less assimilated urban one) may request a burial instead (see also, Kershaw, 1973:fn.l3). The appearance of the Chinese tombstones at the Siam Village cemetery suggest that burial is now much less common than it once was among those rural Chinese who avail themselves of the services Thai temples provide. There are no comparable Thai grave markers. Siam Villagers expressed no particular displeasure regarding their role in Chinese burial activities (in their own village and elsewhere), even though such practices (among Thais) were traditionally reserved for unnatural deaths. Figures on the number of monks serving in Kelantan will be given in chapter 4. Now and then, like at Thanooo, a Chinese family will donate a house of a deceased relative to the temple compound. It will either be moved in one piece or dismantled and rebuilt on the temple grounds. On the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, official weekends include part or all of Thursday, and Friday, the Muslim sabbath. This scheduling is in accordance with Near Eastern Islamic traditions. CHAPTER4

1.

2.

3. 4.

5. 6.

It seems likely that the custom of raking in a commission was originally Chinese. Actually, Thais sometimes use the local Hokkien term, bia thawcii, or "thawcii" money, in referring to the commission. Probably because it constitutes such an important part of Chinese culture. Geertz (1972) likewise describes a Balinese cockfight as a focused gathering, after Goffman. Elsewhere in the ethnographic literature one can find frequent references to crowds of young men between the ages of twenty and thirty who idle about gambling and carousing. As Wilder (1970:233-234) notes, such groups are strongly disapproved of by Malay villagers. It is worthy of note that both sets of mahjong pieces used here were presented to the proprietor by Chinese and Indian in-laws. Hence we find so few older Malay villagers among the deviants.

NOTES 7. 8. 9. 10.

11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

213 Those who are insensitive enough to exhibit unmannerly behavior in public are described as kasar, or "uncouth." Occasionally it is the Malay gamblers who prove influential in defending Thai interests. Khon raw chuaj haj ciin tham bun It7 khttg tham baab. (local Thai) In other parts of Malaysia (see, for example, Nagata, 1974) there is a category of Chinese-Muslims, however. I would argue that Thai-Muslims, especially those settled in central Thailand, are recognized as ethnically "Thai" as well as Thai by nationality. One Kelantanese Malay woman who had married a Thai man and gone to live in his village was discovered by the Malay authorities decades later. She was severely fined. Her case became a popular topic of discussion among Thais all over Kelantan. Thirty Malay and thirty Thai respondents were asked to name the three most desirable occupations for their sons and to rank those three in order of preference. Many had never imagined it possible that their offspring would ever receive enough formal education to pursue other kinds of occupations. These attitudes do not necessarily reflect my own views about women. These are "emic" judgments. Young people, for instance, can spend their evenings in town and then sleep at relatives' homes without worrying about how to find a way home. Intermarriage was fairly common, in fact, in the days when prohibitions on marriage between Malays and non-Muslims were not strictly applied. This has been especially true of manooraa players and their fans. Thus, for instance, one finds names like Che Mat bin Che Yusof. CHAPTER 5

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

12.

Individuals who travel alone may make merit separately, but villagers prefer to approach the host monks as a group. For example, Malay men who normally wear western trousers to town don long sarongs and prayer caps. Multiple celebrations also encourage additional support from Chinese. Siam Villages call these shirts sya koolog, or "Golok shirts," because they are purchased on trips to the border town of Sungai Golok. For that matter, few guests, except for close kinsmen of the sponsor, pay much attention to the religious rites which constitute the core of such festivities as ordinations. These, of course, would be the nagleey. Conclusions may also be drawn regarding the relationship between female mobility and exogamy, especially interethnic marriages. There are exceptions to this rule, as when a wife is a native of Siam Village and/or more withdrawn than her husband. In small communities like Siam Village, the latter include most neighboring households. Literally, "cost of the curry." Curry need not actually be served, though. Household feasts are common among all of Kelantan's ethnic groups. Firth (1974b:55-56) describes parallel customs involving cash collections at Malay feasts, or kenduri. For feasts within Siam Village, it is customary for poorer villagers to attend, even when they have no money. Under such circumstances, they may assist with the preparations. They also send fewer representatives per household and tend to

NOTES

21

13.

14.

15.

16.

come late so as to allow the more well-to-do guests to eat first. Hosts who provide food for them without recompense are said to be making merit. Fairs often begin or end after dark; therefore, private taxis must be hired instead of using public buses, which cease to run by that hour. Traditionally, certain pairs of villages carried on exchanges of localized specialties. Different ecological settings greatly diversified the local economies. Thus, during occasional visits to coastal Thai villages, Siam Villagers would take tobacco and receive nipa palm leaves (for cigarette wrappers) and seafood in return. Important exceptions to this rule are some of the Siam Village women who have married Chinese or Indians and moved away. They may return to their home village with their children and put up at the homes of their parents for long periods of time. Also, small, nearby pockets of Thais living outside Siam Village but belonging to the Siam Village parish are frequent visitors. Thus, for instance, one of my assistants, a twenty-four-year-old man, discovered Thais in other villages were committed to double-cropping, ate much more freshwater fish, and were stingier about sharing boar meat. CHAPTER 6

12.

3.

4.

5. 6.

7.

8.

9. 10.

Monks wear saffron; nuns wear white. While becoming a nun does not carry as much merit as becoming a monk, it is nevertheless considered an excellent way for Kelantanese Thai women to acquire merit. Traditionally, they were eligible for ordination, then, at the beginning of their twenty-second calendar year, at which time all villagers turned one year older. In recent years, men have been ordained at a somewhat earlier age since the birth date is now figured as the time of conception. The Lenten period is the most common season for men to be in the monkhood. One must enter the monkhood at least one day before the beginning of Lent. It is believed that one accrues the maximum amount of merit during this especially sacred three-month period. Monks and former monks invariably reckon their duration of service in the monkhood in terms of the number of phansaa, or Lenten periods, they served. Most northern Thai men who are ordained serve as novices rather than monks. Being ordained as a monk in the northern cultural areas entails learning the old Shan religious script. Men are therefore discouraged from entering the monkhood on only a short-term basis. Novices, however, need not master the old script. In so short a time, men can hardly avail themselves of the opportunities the monkhood should provide for religious instruction. Recognition of the privileges and responsibilities of adulthood, however, hinges as much upon marriage as ordination. The head-shaving ceremony of the ordination can also be interpreted in a Freudian way to be analogous to a circumcision, though I suspect most Buddhists would take offense at such a comparison. However, in most cases, the is retained as part of a former monk's legal name for the use on government documents. Women, on the other hand, normally retain the prefix "ki" before their names throughout life unless they are currently serving as nuns or are being venerated for having been nuns for many years. Older men may be addressed with the fictive kin prefixes "phu" or "luij," especially if they have many offspring or nieces and nephews. Villagers point out that nuns observe far fewer precepts—instead of the 227 which monks are to obey.

N< 11

12

13 14 15 16 17. 18.

19. 20.

21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28.

29.

30. 31. 32.

33. 34.

35.

215 Ordinations of young boys as novices, on the other hand, are quite rare in Kelantan today. No Siam Village men had served as novices in the preceding twenty years. Again, the fulfillment of the vow is contingent upon the recuperation of an ill person (who might be the swearer) or the experiencing of some other desired benefit. Including human and animal feces. Organic waste disposal has never been a problem in the rural tropics. Hogs are neutered to stimulate the fattening process; bulls are neutered to increase their size and render them more docile. Cattle are said to "deserve the gratitude" (flag bunkhun t^) of their owners for the services they render. Sad ruu phaasaa. Standard Malay, binatang babi. Local Thai, thuug muu; local Malay, Ara/is babi. During my first few hours in Siam Village, I was invited to partake of some boar meat. After I had accepted, I was introduced as, among other things, an outsider who ate pork. Local Thai, paj kin muu. Local Thai, paj kin khaniaw. For an explanation of the role of glutinous rice as a Thai ethnic symbol, see Golomb, 1976. Local Thai, paj kin ketq(nya). Local Thai, paj kin phi7. Local Thai, khon thaj kab muu jim. Local Malay, gi makt gula; Standard Malay, pergi makan gulai; English, We're ' 'going to eat curry." When a non-beef-eating father fails to claim his share of a mampus head of cattle, no one else in the household is likely to come in his place. Weinreich (1968:48) calls these units "semantemes." Nowadays, most of the new Malay terms stem from English usages. Standard Malay and Standard Thai are not the antecedents of the local Malay and Thai dialects, but no records are available to indicate what Proto-Patani Malay or Proto-Taag Baj Thai might have been like. Even the Thai spoken today in Taag Baj has been highly influenced by local Malay. Many dialects in Thailand, however, do share most of the syntactic and semantic structures illustrated in this example from Standard Thai. Kelantanese Malay and Standard Malay terms are rendered in the phonemic transcriptions used by de Queljoe (1971). I learned too late of a greatly improved Patani transcription created by C. A. F. Court for his forthcoming Patani Malay-Thai dictionary. See Weinreich (1968:51) for an explanation of this terminology. Used in a fictive sense,phiin-yxtj also may refer to a group of close friends. Thai bilinguals, however, are much more sensitized to phonemic distinctions other than those found in local Thai. They also seem to be more tolerant of tonal differences or lack of tonal clarity in outside varieties of Thai, perhaps due to their exposure to so many different varieties and their command of Malay, which is not tonal. Except, of course, those terms which refer to uniquely Thai activities. Local Malay terms are presented in the phonemic transcription used in de Queljoe's 1971 study of Patani phonology. The orthographic system of Literary Malay is already basically phonemic. Many of the original Thai names for these species are not available, that is, they have been dropped from the active repertoire of the villagers. It is only occa-

NOTES

21

36. 37.

38.

39

40. 41. 42.

sionally the case that the southern Thai and Standard Thai terms are identical. Some alternative forms are known, such as plaa thuu for plaa khamooi), but are nearly never heard in intravillage conversations. There is a remote chance that one or two corresponding transparent terms may be equivalent by coincidence. However, local Thai has numerous phones which would be very difficult for Malays to pronounce or distinguish. Example 14 remains a mystery. It is possible that my informants simply gave me the Malay pronunciation for the name of this species, which is one of the most commonly purchased varieties eaten in the village. All of these names were first elicited in local Thai; only later did I ask informants to translate the local Thai names into local Malay. Example 6 reflects a parallel syllabic reduction process identifiable in local Malay. salaa < silar is conceivably a direct transference since Thai has no final " r " sound. A more usual phonemic rendition is n < r, and would have produced *salan. There are known instances of local Thais switching between their own dialect and Standard Thai when bargaining with merchants from Bangkok or interacting with Malays from Naraathiwaad who speak Standard Thai. Inhabitants of these different Thai communities also absorb the local nuances of the Malay spoken in their immediate surroundings. See, for example, Weinreich, 1968:60. While Thailand has often been called the "land of smiles," Malay peoples to the south smile far less frequently, mostly in expressing genuine pleasure. CHAPTER 7

1.

2.

3. 4. 5.

6.

7.

8.

9. 10.

Dewa Day corresponds to the "Feast of the Hungry Ghosts" elsewhere in Malaysia. For references to comparable ceremonies, see Purcell (1948:126-127), Maeda(1967:77), andCoughlin(1960:111). Kel. Thai, khon raw maj daj ">aaj kab baab. See, for example, Bunnag, 1973:143-144, for a detailed description of the first five precepts and their observance in Bangkok. See, also, Nash, 1974a:244. Highly decorative wooden houses are not included in the category of prestige items since they are the products of individual carpentry skills rather than greatly increased expenditures. nagteerj chibhaaj roughly corresponds to the current usage of the Malay word samseng. It is mostly older, well-to-do Malay villagers who save up funds for the pilgrimage. In 1974, there were eleven people living in Melayu Village who had been to Mecca. Younger people seldom save up for such a pilgrimage in their old age. At least two out of three mature cows in Siam Village are females which normally calve once a year. Tractor owners were not in the habit of extending long-term credit to villagers. Impoverished Malay villagers, in particular, were considered poor credit risks. Previously the owners of contiguous Malay and Thai plots had cooperated in staggering their sowing and transplanting to simplify irrigation. Even after Melayu Villagers adopted double-cropping, however, Siam Villagers continued to stagger their planting operations on nonadjacent plots, thereby permitting their cooperative work groups to continue functioning.

NOTES

217 CHAPTER 8

1.

2. 3.

See Leach (1954:17) for a discussion of this usage of "ritual." Leach contrasts "ritual" with "technique," designating them as aspects of most human actions: "Technique has economic material consequences which are measurable and predictable; ritual on the other hand is a symbolic statement which 'says' something about the individuals involved in the action." As the Thai and Malay terminologies reveal, Thais often use glutinous rice in rituals where Malays may use either nonglutinous or glutinous rice. Gosling (1964:211) has described a parallel convergence of dietary customs among the Baba Chinese and Malays of Trengganu: Food is prepared and cooked in Malay style, even when the meat used is pork. The Babas use comparatively little pork, but their consumption of fish is almost twice that of the Malays in adjacent settlements. Ceremonial and festive foods are Malay, and nasik [sic] kuning or yellow rice, and kltupat mark the Chinese holidays and are used as temple offerings.

4.

5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

11.

12. 13.

One way that Siam Villagers have earned the respect of their Melayu Village neighbors has been through their temple's generosity toward Malay mendicants who have sought charity in the Thai village. The temple staff seldom refuses to provide needy visitors with at least a couple of catties of rice. I mention these particular examples since they were topics of conversations which I witnessed. See chapter 6, p. 151, for explanations of the technical terms used here. In Standard Thai, dun is a seldom used, very specific classifier for long sticks or pieces of wood. Literary Malay, hSIai. Just as some Standard Thai classifiers still retain their original motivation. Villagers can, of course, speak of "hundreds" of years; however, they do not recognize specific historic periods of one hundred years like our nineteenth or twentieth centuries or the current Buddhist twenty-sixth century. Literary Thai and Malay designate centuries with loanwords from Indian and Arabic languages, respectively. Among older villagers, the concept of a "second" as onesixtieth of a minute is generally lacking, even though most of them can read the hour and minute hands on watches and clocks. The open areas of the temple compound, like the rest pavilion and shaded outdoor benches, are not included here as "religious structures." Both Thai and Malay respondents agreed that the sacred areas of either group were normally off limits to members of the outgroup. See Nash, 1974b:39, for an illustration of the interior of a typical Kelantanese Malay (or Thai) house. Actually, other outside Malays besides close friends of Siam Villagers are willing to take meals or snacks in Thai homes. These include visiting makyong and shadow puppet performers as well as pedicab, taxi, and tractor drivers from other areas.

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Index

Abbot of Siam Village temple, 23, 27, 62, 64, 69. 81, 84, 85, 90, 91, 91-92, 117, 167, 210 n23 Adoption of Thai children by Chinese and Indians, 109-110 Agricultural conservatism among Thais. See Double-cropping; Pigs, persistence in raising; Rice, preference for wet Agricultural wage labor, 7, 37-39, 49, 109 Alien image. See Kelantanese Thai, alien image Annandale, Nelson, 24, 104, 105 Antimaterialism in Siam Village: affecting attitudes about merit, 174; conceals large expenditures for food and services, 50-51, 173-174; encouraged by access to temple property, 51, 175 (see also Temples, property of, shared by villagers; Monkhood, gifts received in); evidenced in scarcity of individually owned durable goods, 50, 51, 130, 171, 172-173, 175 (see also Consumer goods); expressed in concealment of goods owned, 171, 173, 175; fosters image of relative impoverishment, 51, 71, 175 (see also Underprivileged image of Thais); including avoidance of prestige brands, 171-172; influenced by Chinese, 171, 174; outgroup inlaws disregard for, 172-173; "prestige items" versus "special items" in, 174; in response to the values of some neighboring Malays, 130, 170-172, 173, 174; selective nature of, 50, 51, 143, 163, 173-175

Assimilation: in cognition, 182-187, 208 n48; in foods, 183, 217 n3; of food taboos (see Beef avoidance); in functions of religious rituals, 133; heightens possibilities for Thai-Malay marriages, 113; to Kelantan's plural society, 11; of local Thai dialect to local Malay, 146-161, 185-187, 188-189; of manooraa with makyong, 55; more intense, in isolated Siam Village, 198; in religious ritual and concepts, 183-185; researcher's approach to, 6-7; resistance to, 9, 130-131, 146, 155-156, 158, 161, 162; resulting in biculturalism, 24, 160, 188-189; rural cultural models for local Thai, 188-189. See also Diversionary boundary markers; Language, assimilation of local Thai, to local Malay Backsliding, 8, 9, 94-103, 117; only among a tiny minority, 101 Bangkok, 26, 27, 28, 86, 92, 125, 158, 160, 210 nl5, 216 n39 Barth, Fredrik, 5, 162, 163, 182 Bateson, Gregory, 43 Beef avoidance, 143-146, 215 n26 Benedict, Paul K., 156 Berlin, Brent, and Paul Kay, 189 Berreman, Gerald D., 8, 208 n55 Bessac, Frank, 144 Blom, Jan-Petter, 194 Boars: attract early Thai immigrants, 18, 19; damage done by, 19, 73, 74, 211 n27; hunting of, 18, 19, 54, 72-81, 97,

228 124, 211 n28, 211 n34; Malay abhorrence of, 19, 73-74, 75, 211 n32, 211 n33; meat of, distributed through temple, 17, 81, 91; meat of, in social exchange, 72, 80-81, 126; parts of, used in making of amulets, 211 n32. See also Pigs; Pork Brandon, James R., 209 n3 Brokers of morality, 94-103, 168; explanation of, 103 Brown, J. Marvin, xiii, 204 n 12, 204 n21 Bunnag, Jane, 216 n3 Burridge, Kenelm O. L., 101, 140 Cash: expenditure of, 39, 47-51, 74, 76, 77-78, 80, 126, 178, 206 n 24, 207 n43, 208 n46 (see also Consumer goods); sources of, in Siam Village, 46, 48, 51, 52, 56, 63, 68, 71-72, 86, 87-88, 90-91, 92, 94, 95, 98, 99, 100, 108-109, 210 n26; transactions in, indicate impersonal interethnic relations, 38-39, 205 n7, 206 n l 9 Cattle-raising, 46-47, 175, 216 n8; advantages of cows or water buffalos in, 46, 49, 176-180, 207 n38 Chan Su-ming, 95 Chiengmai, 123, 125, 151, 204 n20 Chinese: influence of, on Thais, 5, 10, 11, 13, 40, 42-43, 44, 50, 107, 113, 126, 174, 196, 206 n26, 207 n36, 212 n l ; language skills of, 11, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 105-106; Malay attitudes toward, 51-52; ordinations of, 86, 88, 132; as patrons for Thais, 10, 37, 42, 50, 56, 60, 71, 74, 83-84, 87, 103, 107, 108-110, 111, 112, 113, 132, 143; provide political leadership for Thais, 13, 107; religious syncretism of, 81-84, 166-167; rural versus urban, 14, 62, 82-86, 107, 212 n48; support Thai temples, 5, 11-12, 14, 15, 17, 62, 81-93, 103, 104, 108, 132, 166-167, 170, 174, 175, 212 n43, 212 n50 Clothing, 50, 122, 123, 171, 173, 174, 204 n20, 213 n2, 213 n4; as display or concealment of wealth, 71, 122, 171, 173; of innovative nagleeq, 59, 174; to undercommunicate or emphasize ethnic identity, 122, 123, 213 n2 Code-switching, 85, 139-140, 146, 149, 152, 155-156, 158, 188, 193, 194, 216 n39 Cohen, Abner, 5, 13 Cole, John W., and Eric R. Wolf, 90, 114, 201 Commensality: among Thai villages,

INDEX 125-127; interethnic, 8-9, 96, 98-99, 109, 142, 144, 194, 217 n l 3 Communications networks: of boar hunters, 74-75, 77; to Chinese via the village temple, 108; cover a wide area, 6, 116; crucial to Thai economy, 116; and economic symbiosis, 68-69, 76, 78, 116; of gamblers, 99; of magic practitioners, 68-69; Malay cooperation in, 52, 68-69, 74, 116; for mampus animals, 77-78; role of taxi and pedicab drivers in, 68, 77; through rural to urban Chinese, 104, 107; in sharing the kill, 80; Thai-Chinese, supporting temple fairs, 91; between Thai communities, 125, 127-128 Communications taboos: and agricultural dichotomies, 43, 44, 190-191, 207 n36; in discussing ethnic identity markers, 190, 193; ignoring, 193-195 (see aiso Ethnicity, undercommunication of); and "inconspicuous consumption," 173, 175; linguistic and spatial parallels in, 45, 190-195; and magical practice, 67-68, 70, 117; concerning religion and diet, 45, 79-80, 132, 139-140, 140-141, 190, 192, 211 n39; across sexes, 59, 96, 100, 114-115, 191 Community spirit. See Siam Village, community spirit in Consumer goods: in Melayu Village, 170-172; in Siam Village, 170-175 Cosmopolitan villagers, 97, 127-128; and house location, 198 Coughlin, Richard J., 166, 216 nl Court, Christopher A. F., 215 n29 Craig, J. A., 45 Cultural drift, 145 Curing: Chinese visit Thai temples for, 84, 86, 91; through hunting, 75; by manooraa masters, 59; through manooraa training, 58-59; powers of great abbots in, 62; Thais and Malays may consult each other in, 64; traditional specialists in, 62; western-style medical practitioners and, 165. See also Magic practitioners among Thais Despres, Leo A., 162 Devereux, George, 145 Diffuse economic niche, 6, 53, 74, 101, 116 associative ethnic identity, 145 Diversionary boundary markers, 181-188; and animistic practices, 184; as cognitive "defense mechanisms," 182; and differences in agriculture, 190; and

INDEX

229

food, 182, 183, 217 n3 (see also Kelantan, regional identity); mechanics of, 184, 190; and religious observance, 183-184, 190 Divorce, 34, 64-67, 97, 111, 112, 113, 114, 210 nl8, 210 n l 9 ; division of property upon, 34; high rate of, among Malays, 64-67, 210 nl8, 210 nl9; intermarriage and, 112, 113-114; procedure of, among Thais, 111; statistics of, in Siam and Melayu Villages, 64 Dobby, E. H. G., 11, 42, 177, 207 n41 Double-cropping, 36-37, 40, 44, 45, 46-47, 49, 50, 130, 178, 179-180, 206 n29, 210 nlO; and additional cash expenditures, 46, 49-50, 178; and agricultural complementarity, 46-47 48, 179-180; or fallow grazing land, 45-46; introduction of, with new irrigation, 36; lack of, among Siam Villagers, 37, 44, 130; among Melayu Villagers, 37; tobacco cultivation chosen over, 37, 40, 44, 45, 206 n29; traditionally lacking in Kelantan, 45 Douglas, Mary, 145 Downs, Richard E., 47 , 50, 66, 95 , 203 n9, 205 n3, 205 n9, 210 nl9, 211 n27 Drinking, alcohol, 94, 100, 103

taboos); economic complementarity fostered by, 5-6, 12-13, 43, 44, 45, 130, 131, 162-163, 179-180 (see also Interethnic socioeconomic complementarity); individuals ignore rigid protocol prescribed for, 8-9, 193-195, 200 (see also Ethnicity, undercommunication of); intravillage conflict reduced along, 8 (see also Social stress); isolation enhances (see Isolation and size affect behavior in Siam Village); local, marked by microcultural traits, 6, 12, 43, 118, 129-131, 145, 180, 199-200; rural nature of local, 188-189; signaled by dichotomous cultural features, 5, 43, 145; social separatism reinforced by, where assimilation is feared, 6, 9, 44, 118, 130, 131, 134, 142, 146, 160, 162163, 179-180, 189-190 (see also Communications taboos; Interethnic social interaction, avoidance of); socioreligious violations across, create economic opportunities. 8-9 (see also Backsliding; Brokers of morality); spatial parameters of, 8-9, 189-195, 200 (see also Interethnic social interaction, spatial features of); stay the same while markers change, 129, 144-146, 162-163, 180. See also Diversionary boundary markers

Eastward orientation of Thai houses, 196-197 Economic categories among villagers, 16, 35-36, 50-51, 89, 126-127, 130, 170, 172, 173-174; the leisure class, 97, 127 Economic complementarity. See Interethnic socioeconomic complementarity Education: among Kelantanese Thais, 12, 203 n8; Melayu Village stereotype of Siam Village, 52; scholarships for Thais in, are few, 204 nl5; of Siam Villagers in Malay medium schools, 140, 159, 176, 209 n57, 209 n58. See also Manooraa, as a medium of cultural transmission; Monkhood, education in; Temples, education programs of Emigration: from Melayu Village, 35, 205 nl3; from Siam ViUage, 21-23, 33, 108, 116, 205 n9 Enloe, Cynthia H., 20 Ethnic boundaries, 5, 8-9, 12, 43, 44, 45, 114, 118, 129-131, 134, 142, 144, 145, 146, 149, 160, 179-180, 181-188, 189, 189-195, 199, 200; cognitive parameters of, 181-188; communications taboos along, reduce conflict in daily interaction, 45, 142 (see also Communications

Ethnic category, 6, 8, 13, 75, 80, 96, 104, 105, 114, 118, 128, 162, 190, 195, 199, 201; amorphous, versus local ethnic aggregate, 6, 13, 128, 162, 201; cultural heterogeneity within the Thai, 118, 128, 162; and "ethnic bloc," 13; exclusivity of the Malay, 104-105, 115; stereotyped social status within an, 8, 96, 199; ThaiChinese offspring may choose either, or both, 105; traditions of the Thai, 20, 117-118, 123-124, 128, 129-161, 200, 204 n 14 Ethnic identity, 5; continuity of, 162; individual differences in, among Thai villages, 12-13, 43, 117-118, 128, 145, 163, 200 (see also Kelantanese Thai, economic and cultural heterogeneity); Malay, 105, 106, 122; mixed ThaiChinese and Thai-Indian, 104, 105, 111, 112-113; of Siam Villagers, 23, 24, 28, 43, 45, 64, 106-107, 115, 117-118, 128, 129, 180, 181, 188-189, 199-201, 203 n4; working definition of, 5. See also Dissociative ethnic identity Ethnicity: as adaptive strategy, 13, 93, 117-118, 129-131, 162-163, 199-201; undercommunication of, 8-9, 122, 190,

230 193-195, 200, 217 nl3; working definition of, 5 Ethnic space, 192-193, 195, 199 Ethnic traits, 5-7, 117-118, 129-180; derived from tradition, 129-130, 131, 131-161, 162; focal, conceal underlying similarities, 181-188; synthesized as structural contrasts, 130, 162-180, 189, 201 Evers, Hans-Dieter, 17 Exchange rates for Malaysian dollars, 206 n30 Farrer, R. J., 61 Fasting violations, 94, 95, 100 Feasts, 16, 56, 121, 125-127; reciprocity in, 125-127, 143-144, 173, 213 n i l , 213 n l 2 Feedback between economic adaptation and microcultural development, 163, 180 Fertilizer, 35, 40, 41, 46-47, 49, 176, 207 n41, 207 n42, 207 n43 Firth, Raymond, 16, 211 n27, 213 n i l Firth, Rosemary, 34, 65, 76, 206 n24 Food taboos. See Haram foods; Mampus animals Foster, Brian L., 206 n22 Fraser, Thomas M., Jr., 24, 211 n37 Freedman, Maurice, 8, 13, 82, 114 Furnivall, J. S., 208 n53 Gambling, 54, 94-100, 102, 115, 124, 192. See also Mahjong Geertz, Clifford, 3 , 95 , 96, 129, 212 n3 Gimlette, J. D., 211 n32 Ginsberg, Henry D., 59, 60, 209 n3 Goffman, Erving, 96, 192, 194 Gosling, L. A. P., 211 n41, 217 n3 Government employment: among Kelantanese Thais, 107, 109; among Melayu Villagers, 108 Graham, W. A., 31, 95 Gullick, J. M., 204 nl Gumperz, John J., and Robert Wilson, 146, 149 Haas, Mary R., xiii Haram foods, 38, 72, 73, 76-80, 211 n39 Hill, A. H „ 205 n9 Households: composition of, in Siam and Melayu Villages, 34-35; as economic and residential units, 34, 205 nlO Indian: clients of Thai love-charm practitioners, 67; employers of Thais, 109, 111; husbands of Thai women (see In-

INDEX termarriage, Thai-Indian); Muslims in Malay villages, 205 nl2; ordinations, 113, 132 Indirect reciprocity between Thais and Malays, 72, 73, 75-76, 94, 116 Intensification of religious observance, 131-136; through meditation (wipadsanaa), 135-136; through ordinations of monks, 131-134; through ordinations of nuns, 131, 135-136 Interethnically marked language. See Language, interethnically marked Interethnic social interaction: avoidance, of, 27, 38, 43, 44, 59, 80, 108, 109, 114, 132, 134, 142, 190-191, 195, 198 (see also Communications taboos); between Chinese and Malays, 51, 52, 137, 140, 217 n3; economic nature of, 51, 208 n53 (see also Interethnic economic complementarity; Public gathering places in Siam Village); and the founding of Siam Village, 19-20; friction in, 9, 51, 136, 137, 140-142, 209 n57; and modernizing influences, 146, 150; public places as foci of, 195-199; during reciprocal visits, 192, 193-194; spatial features of, 6, 7-8, 8-10, 45, 56, 74, 75-76, 80, 94-103, 114, 118, 142, 185, 189-195, 195-199, 200, 201; in Taag Baj, 19, 24; temporal features of, 6, 7, 74, 91, 96, 97, 99, 191 Interethnic sociocultural integration among non-Muslims, 9, 13, 105-107, 110, 132, 168 Interethnic socioeconomic complementarity: in agriculture, 32, 37-39, 42-43, 43-48, 48 -50, 117, 130, 136, 179-180; dependence of, on evolving cultural contrasts, 116-118, 162-163, 201; in dietary laws and preferences, 19-20, 72-78, 109-110, 142; diversity in local, 12; in entertainment roles, 19-20, 55-57, 168; in politics, 52 (see also Chinese, political leadership of Thais); in religion and orientation toward the supernatural, 9, 10, 19-20, 68-69, 72, 72-78, 81-93, 94-103, 109-110, 116117, 142, 163, 166-168, 175, 211 n41 (see also Chinese, support of Thai temples); in social class, 10, 12, 32, 37, 109-110 (see also Chinese, as patrons for Thais); between Thais and Chinese, 10, 24, 32, 37, 56, 73-74, 81-93, 100, 103, 108-110, 136, 138, 142, 163, 166-167, 172, 175, 211 n41; between Thais and Malays, 9-10, 12, 19-20, 24, 37-39, 42-43, 43-48, 48-50, 50, 52-53,

INDEX 55, 55-57, 68-69, 72, 72-78, 94-103, 109-110, 116-117, 130, 142, 162-163, 168, 179-180, 189-190, 195, 198-199;in trade, 24, 49-50, 52, 98, 100, 138, 142, 195, 199 (see also Middlemen). See also Ethnic boundaries, economic complementarity fostered by Intermarriage: Malay-Chinese, 104, 110-111, 114, 205 n4; Malay-Indian, 110; statistics of, in Siam Village, 111-112, 113, 198; Thai-Chinese, 10, 34, 82-83, 85, 90, 103-106, 109-113, 115, 127, 132, 172; Thai-Indian, 34, 110-113, 115, 127, 132, 168, 172; ThaiMalay, 24, 96, 113-115, 205 n4, 213 n i l , 213nl6 Intermediaries in interethnic social interaction: as negotiators for intervillage cooperation, 9, 15; in times of potential intervillage conflict, 9, 103, 213 n8. See also Communications networks; Monkhood; Nagleei Intraethnic social interaction: economic constraints on, 127; among Kelantanese Thai villages, 12, 13, 33, 57, 60, 61, 80-81, 89, 91, 92, 96, 111-112, 121128, 145, 214 nl4; Malay, with Malays in Thailand, 21; messengers in Thai, 127-128; temples as settings of, 13-14, 121-125, 127-128; Thai, with Thais in Thailand, 20-28, 62, 158, 160 (see also Feasts); among Thais contrasted with interethnic, 123, 128; women's importance to Thai, 97, 125, 127 Irrigation, 9, 36, 44, 45 Isolation and size affect behavior in Siam Village, 16-17, 118, 130, 134, 145, 159, 182, 200 Jackson, James C., 45, 47 Japanese occupation, 89, 102, 140 Kaufman, Howard Keva, 170 Kelantan: geography of, 11, 73; history of, 18; multi-ethnic population of, 11, 106, 205 n3; regional identity of, 11, 11-12, 203 n5; rural administration of, 15, 203 n9, 203 n i l Kelantanese Thai: alien image, 20, 74, 204 nl5, 205 n4, 211 n29; economic and cultural heterogeneity, 12, 33, 108, 118, 128, 130, 131-132, 142, 145, 163, 164, 175, 200, 214 nl4, 214 nl6; political organization, 13, 14-17, 28, 124, 203 n8; rural character, 12, 107, 113, 122, 164, 188-189; villages, 11-14

23I Kershaw, Roger, 12, 106, 211 n41, 212 n48 Kessler, Clive S., 32, 101 Kota Bharu, 14, 23, 26, 27, 31, 39, 67, 70, 76, 78, 82, 88, 91, 101, 102, 106, 109, 110-111, 112, 113, 122, 127, 137, 143, 145, 171 Kuala Lumpur, 32, 60, 71, 76, 83, 87, 89, 113 Land: distribution of, in Siam and Melayu Villages, 33-39; free use of others', 33, 46, 110, 208 n44; ownership of, and economic status, 35; paddy versus garden, 42, 207 n32; reclamation of, 21, 31, 42, 72-73; sharecropping and rental of, 7, 35-37, 38, 205 nl6, 207 n40; shortages of, 21-23, 31-33, 33-39, 46, 108, 110, 116, 176, 200; use of fallow, 46-47 Language: assimilation of local Thai, to local Malay, 133, 139, 146-158, 185188, 188-189, 215 n29, 216 n40; changes in cognitive operations in local Thai, 185-188; color terms in local Thai, 189; for distinguishing former monks, 133; and exclusivity in Taag Baj, 24, 204 nl6, 204 nl7, 209 n4; interethnically marked, 150, 152, 155-156, intertranslatability of local Thai and Malay, 146-150, 185-188, 189; kinship terms in local Thai, 147, 148-149; local Chinese, 10; local Malay, as a lingua franca, 85, 111, 146, 150, 159, 188; macaronics in local Thai, 155-156; morphophonemic conversion rules in local Thai, 152, 156-158; motivation (see Language, transparency of); ptlt-Q (pidginized local Malay), 159-160; referring to Thai group identity, 131, 188; rural-urban differences in, 189; spoken by researcher, 7, 10; Standard Thai, incompletely understood by local Thais, 25, 160-161, 189, 204 nl9, 216 n42, 216 nlO; Standard Thai, as language of ritual and politics, 161; Thais' inability to speak Malaysian national, 157, 161, 188-189; transcription of local Malay, xiv, 215 n29, 215 n34; transcription of local Thai, xiii-xiv, 149; transparency of, 150-156, 185; unintelligibility of local Thai, 146, 150, 155-158; used by villagers, 7, 24, 25, 26, 27-28, 55, 85, 87, 105, 109, 115, 123, 131, 133, 139-140, 146-161, 174, 185-188, 188-189, 208 n48, 214 n8, 214 n9, 215 n28; variations in ability of

232 Thais to speak local Malay, 158, 198. See also Code-switching Leach, Edmund R., 217 nl Lehman, F. K„ 13 LeVine, Robert A., and Donald T. Campbell, 106 Literacy: in Chinese, 106, 211 n41; in the Malaysian national language, 57, 106, 157, 159, 161; in Standard Thai, 26, 27, 55, 57, 87, 161, 164, 204 n20, 204 n21 Maeda, Kiyoshige, 216 nl Magic practitioners among Thais: characteristics of successful, 62; clandestine activities of, 63 , 68, 94; clientele of, 64-67, 70-71; contrasted with those among Malays, 64, 184; economic rewards of, 62, 63, 68, 71-72, 72, 91; "forgetting medicine" of, 70, 210 n25; generalized prowess of, 51, 55, 58, 59, 61-62, 62-63, 71-72, 185; hate magic of, 59, 63, 68, 70-71, 2)0 n25; hereditary power of, 62; love charm industry of, 55, 60, 63, 64-65; maintain confidentiality, 67; manooraa as source of reputation of, 55, 58, 59-60, 61, 64; manooraa masters as, 59-60; monks as, 62, 84, 86; n m (bvni) native categories for, 62-72; number of, in Siam Village, 63; occupation of, influences values and beliefs, 130, 163; potential rivalry among, 68; referrals to, 62, 68, 68-69; Siam Village abbot as important representative of, 62, 64, 83, 91; Siam Villagers protect stereotype of, 117; skepticism of, 72, 117; social and geographical distance help, 67; social skills of, 69; techniques of, 69, 184, 210 n24, 211 n32; training of, 62; unusual concentration of, in Siam Village, 63, 64, 68; various types of, 63, 210 n 16; as wholesalers, 72. See also Communications taboos; Curing; Spirits Mahjong, 3, 50, 95-100, 199, 212 n2 Makroh (siin mun rrmq), or "undesirable" behavior, 47, 184 Makyong, 55-57, 168, 209 n5, 209 n6, 209 n7, 217 n l 3 Malay, legal definition of, 205 n4 Malay Reserve laws, 21, 32, 42, 204 nl5, 205 n5 Mampus animals, 77-80, 143-144, 211 n36, 211 n37, 211 n39 Manooraa: as avocation, 57, 124; charm and magic associated with, 55, 55-56, 57, 58, 58-60, 60, 61, 165; description of the genre of, 55, 59, 209 n3; initia-

INDEX tion into, 60-61, 210 n 13; as an interethnic enterprise, 55, 56-57; interethnic social ties among performers of, 55, 56, 57, 61; intraethnic social ties among performers of, 56, 57, 61, 121; Malay language in, 55, 57, 160, 209 n4; Malay makyong resembles, 55, 57, 209 n5; masters of (aacaan, nooraa), 56, 57, 58, 60, 209 n l , 209 n8; as a medium of cultural transmission, 55, 56; parallels drawn between, and the monkhood, 55, 57-58, 60-61, 210 nl4; performance of, as a social event, 56, 59, 122, 124, 209 n7, 210 n i l ; the performer of, as a collective fantasy, 59; performers of, among Siam Village founders, 19, 54; performers of, as potential village leaders, 58, 60; renowned performers of, 60, 71, 117; as a social institution, 54-61; social skills and mobility among performers of, 58; sponsors of, 56, 61; training for, 57, 58, 209 n8; troupes of, 55, 56, 58, 61, 210 n9 "Marginal" social phenomena as bases for interethnic social interactions, 201 Melayu Village: attitudes of, toward Siam Village, 15, 51-52, 68; fictitious name of, 9, 203 n2; as Malay comparison community for Siam Village, 33-38, 50, 106, 108, 144, 171-172, 175; size of, 34 Merit-making: as a basis for village solidarity, 15-17; by Chinese versus by Thais, 17, 83 , 90, 131, 170; to compensate for sins, 63, 169; by elders, 66, 74, 134; promotes intervillage ties, 23, 83, 85, 122, 123-124, 126, 135; quantity and quality of, 126, 134, 169-170, 183-184 Methodology, 6, 10, 201, 213 nl2, 216 n37 Microcultural traits. See Ethnic boundaries; Ethnic identity; Ethnic traits Middlebrook, S. M., 81, 104 Middlemen: Chinese, for Malays, 82; Chinese, for Thais, 49, 76, 136, 138, 142; Malay, for Thais, 43, 44, 48, 48-49, 76, 209 n59; Thai, 52, 209 n59 Moerman, Michael, 118, 131, 182 Monkhood: attractions of, 90; bestows prestige, 87; as channel for outside Thai influence, 27, 28; Chinese stimulate expansion of, 89-90, 108; Chinese use of, different from Thai, 83, 86, 166; compared and contrasted with the manooraa institution, 54-55, 57-58, 60-61; compared with nunhood, 134,

INDEX 214 ni, 214 nlO; education in, 26-27, 27, 55, 204 n21, 214 n5; fosters communications links between Thai villages, 13-14, 23, 61, 121, 127; geographical and social mobility of, 27, 55, 62, 86, 90, 125 , 210 nl5; "gifts" received in, 86, 90, 174; growth of, compensates foi shortage of eligible female spouses, 90, 111; industrialization in, 86, 166; institutions of Thai, adopted by Chinese villages, 83, 89; keeps unemployed youths off of the streets, 174; local changes in, related to ethnicity, 131-134; members of, avoided by Malay villagers, 27, 62, 132; in northern Thailand, 214 n4; and ordination in Kelantan, 60, 131-134, 214 n2, 214 n3, 215 n i l ; participation of, in wipadsanaa, 135-136; political influence of, 28, 161; practitioners in, 62, 86, 92; presides over syncretistic ceremonies for Chinese, 84, 85-86, 87, 166, 167; as a vehicle of identification with the Thai nation, 26, 27 Mulder, J, A. Niels, 170 Mutual status degradation, 208 n55 Nagata, Judith A., 205 n4, 213 nlO Nagteen, 19-20, 28, 54, 56, 58, 61, 68, 72, 93, 97, 144, 159, 174, 204 nl3, 216 n6; as cultural hero, 19; experience as, brings prestige to practitioners, 68; as innovators in adaptation to Malay environment, 28, 54, 159; as intermediaries in interethnic relations, 54, 61; kinds of, 19, 54, 174, 204 n3; older married women become, 97; as potential leaders, 54; role of, in the founding of Siam Village, 19-20; in Thailand, 204 nl3; vanity and idleness of young, 174, 216 n6; wandering nature of, 19, 54 Naraathiwaad, 11, 18, 20-27, 205 nl3, 216 n39 Nash, Manning, 16, 52, 61, 81, 101, 170, 171, 203 n9, 210 nl9, 216 n4, 217 nl2 Nikhom Commune, 20-23 Non-agricultural wage labor, 90, 104, 107-109 Nuns, 88, 131, 134, 214 n l , 214 nlO Occupational preferences in Siam and Melayu Villages, 106-107 Officials, Siam Villagers' relations with, 15, 23, 25-26, 26, 27, 28, 31-32, 41, 74, 94, 99, 100, 101-103, 138, 142, 210 n i l ; government agricultural experts and

233 veterinarians, 41, 138; government licensing agencies, 74, 210 n i l ; Islamic religious authorities, 101-102; leaders of Malaysian and Thai polities, 28; local government administrators, 15, 94; middle class Thai bureaucrats in Sungai Golok, 25-26; police, 99, 100, 102-103; tax collectors in the past, 31-32; Thai Consul in Kota Bharu, 27; Thai Department of Religious Affairs, 26; Thai officials at Nikhom, 23 Ordinations. See Chinese, ordinations of; Intensification of religious observance; Monkhood, and ordination in Kelantan Patani, Malay kingdom of, 18, 24, 204 nl7 Phillips, Herbert P., 131 Pigs: contrasted with cattle, 78, 81, 139, 141-146, 215 nl4, 215 nl5; Malays' abhorrence of, 139-142; persistence in raising, 136-146; raising of, 48, 51, 76, 81, 130, 136-146; as ritual food (along with boars), 81, 143, 144-146; Siam Villagers' negative attitudes toward, 139-140; as source of friction, 51, 136, 137, 140-142; as a "symbol of group allegiance," 145. See also Boars; Pork Pork: consumption of, 50, 80-81, 136, 140, 141, 142; discretion in handling, 78-79, 140; importance of, in interethnic relations, 142-145, 183, 215 nl9; taboos among Hebrews and Muslims, 145. See also Boars; Pigs Primordial attachments, 129 Public gathering places in Siam Village, 195-199, 217 n i l ; economic profit from, 195, 198; orientation of, to the road, 196-198 Purcell, Victor, 81, 216 nl de Queljoe, David H., xiv, 215 n29, 215 n34 Rat nam, K. J., 106 Raybeck, Douglas A., 66, 101, 210 nl8, 210 nl9 Reciprocal harvesting groups, 38-39, 48, 69, 216 nlO Religious pragmatism, 11, 86, 91, 116, 130, 163, 164-170; in accommodating double ceremonies for interethnic weddings and funerals, 168; in attitudes toward malevolent supernatural forces, 164-166; in attitudes toward various meritorious activities, 169-170, 174; in attracting syncretistic Chinese and In-

234 dian patrons, 11, 86, 91, 166-168, 170, 212 n43, 212 n48; in compensatory merit-making, 169; in perceptions of morality and sinning, 169-170; in welcoming Malay participation in temple fair festivities, 168 Religious specialists: among monks (see Monkhood); among Siam Village laymen, 85, 87-88, 93, 131, 167 Residence patterns, 111-115 Rice: cultivation of, 31-33, 49-50, 208 n49; figures for yields and consumption of, 35, 36, 49, 205 nl4; glutinous, 143, 217 n2; milling of, 7, 9, 48-49, 50; preference for wet, 21, 42. See also Agricultural wage labor; Doublecropping; Fertilizer; Land; Reciprocal harvesting groups Ross, Jennie-Keith, 129, 201 Rubber cultivation: dislike for, among Siam Villagers, 21-23; at Nikhom, 21-23; replacing rice cultivation, 32; in Siam and Melayu Villages, 41-43, 207 n31, 207 n33; tappers in, 42, 205 nl8, 207 n31, 207 n34; in Trengganu, 33 Rural identity shared by Thai and Malay villagers, 188-189. See also Kelantanese Thai, rural character Sheppard, Mubin, 209 n3 Siam Village: community spirit in, 15-17, 37, 38-39, 80, 92, 117, 124, 136, 213 n2; endogamy and exogamy in, l l l ll 2; factions and social alignments in, 16, 69, 80; fictitious name of, 3, 203 nl; leadership in, 15, 58, 60, 127, 203 nlO; original settlement of, 17-20; relations of, with Thailand, 20-28, 204 nl9, 204 n20, 204 n21; setting of, 3, 4 (Map 1), 22 (Map 2); size of, 3, 34, 205 nil Singapore, 26, 71, 76, 86, 113 Skeat, Walter W„ 177, 211 n32 Slaughtering and carving up animals: among Malays, 76, 77, 78, 80, 144, 211 n36, 211 n37; among Thais, 75, 78, 80, 81, 139, 142, 144, 203 nlO, 211 n39 Smith, T. E„ 65 Social distance, 67, 185, 191, 193, 199 Social mobility, 55, 57-58, 86, 90, 106 Social relationships, primary versus secondary, 8-9, 51, 123, 190, 193-195, 199 Social stress: in Malay villages reduced with the help of Thais, 101-102, 103; reduced through interethnic business transactions, 39, 204 n22 Socioreligious constraints. See Backsliding Spirits: Chinese fear of dead persons', 87;

INDEX

coolness of Thais in working with, 64, 87, 116-117, 130, 166; of dead animals, 78; diminishing fear of malevolent, among Thais, 163, 164-166; doors of Thai houses entered by, 1%; exorcising malicious, 61, 63; of the forest, 75; former haunts of malevolent, 87, 165; and hate magic, 63; Malay, 64; Malay fears about, 166; manooraa ancestral, 59; merriment in propitiation of, 165; offerings to Thai and Chinese ancestral, 166-167; of practitioners' teachers, 69; rice for propitiation of, among Malays and Thais, 183; Siam Village's guardian, 60, 164; sightings of, 165; similarity of Thai and Malay propitiation of, 184; varieties of, 165 Steiner, Franz, 211 n32 Sungai Golok, 23, 25-26, 28, 158, 204 nl9, 204 n20, 213 n4 Swift, Michael G., 46, 66, 67, 170 Taag Baj: dialect of, 18, 133, 204 nl2, 204 nl7, 204 n21, 215 n29; isolation of, from north, 25; Thai ancestral villages in, 12, 17-20, 20-21, 23-25, 71, 135, 150, 158, 204 nl7, 204 nl8, 207 n34, 209 n4 Tambiah, Stanley J., 81, 165 Tapirs, 17, 73, 75, 77, 80, 126, 144, 211 n35, 212 n44 Temple boys, 13, 23, 57, 83, 88, 110, 127 Temple fairs, 13-14, 23, 26, 50, 56, 61, 81, 83, 90-93, 97, 100, 117, 121-125, 126-128, 143, 166-167, 168, 173, 214 nl3; boar meat solicited for, 81, 91; Chinese participation in, 83, 91, 143; commerce between Thai villages transacted at, 128; courtship and new friendships at, 13-14, 122-123; entertainment at, 26, 56, 61, 91, 100, 122, 124, 127; exposure to the culture of peninsular Thailand at, 26, 124; and fund-raising, 90, 166; heavy attenders at, 97, 124-125, 127; host communities profit from, 90-91, 93, 167; limited social interaction at, 121-122, 128; Malay participation in, in Siam Village, 168; merit-making at, 81, 83, 91, 92, 122, 126, 173; obscure villagers' perceptions of intervillage cultural differences, 128; political activities at, 124; preservation of Thai traditions at, 121, 123-124, 128; promotion of, 91, 123, 166; reaffirmation of kin ties and renewal of friendships at, 121, 122, 127-128; reunions with emigrants at 23; social and

INDEX cultural cohesion of Kelantanese Thais promoted at, 121-125, 127; staggering dates of, 123; supported by other temples, 92; syncretistic elements in, 166-167; as temporary "urban" centers, 122-123; Thai ethnic identity displayed at, 123; village visibility enhanced by, 117 Temples: bood needed for certification of, 14; as centers for training craftsmen, 206 n23; as cultural and social foci, 14, 69, 83, 86, 121-125, 127, 128; designed to meet the needs of Chinese patrons, 14, 90; education programs of, 26-27, 88, 161, 166, 209 n57; as links with Thailand, 26-28; as mobilizing symbols for cooperative projects, 15-17, 81, 90; number of, in Kelantan, 14; parish composition of, 14, 83; property of, shared by villagers, 17, 174-175; as social welfare institutions, 15-16, 66, 68, 85, 88-89, 103, 134, 217 n4; as tourist attractions, 26; wealth distribution through, 16-17, 80-81, 89, 90-93, 108, 121, 167 Textor, Robert B., 88, 167, 210 n l 2 Thai-Buddhist Association of Kelantan, 13, 60, 124. See also Kelantanese Thai, political organization Thai southward migration, 12, 18-20, 21 Thomas, M. Ladd, 24 Thyy siin, 169, 184

235 Tobacco: cultivation of, 37, 39-48, 107, 130, 206 n25, 206 n26, 206 n27, 206 n28, 206 n29, 207 n35, 207 n36, 207 n37; different varieties of, 40, 43, 107, 172, 204 nl8, 207 n36, 207 n37; in social exchange, 76, 95 Trengganu, 11, 11-12, 33, 76, 91, 136, 171, 175, 211 n41, 217 n3 Trustworthiness of Thais, 51, 67, 102-103, 109, 116, 163, 210 n21 Tweedie, M. W. F., 95 Ullman, Stephen, 151 Underprivileged image of Thais, 50, 51-52, 71, 74, 116, 163, 175. See also Antimaterialism in Siam Village Unemployment, comparative, 52, 108, 204 nl5 Vegetable gardening, 42, 47, 207 nl2, 208 n44, 208 n45 Water buffalos lacking in Siam Village, 49. 130, 163, 175-180 Weinreich, Uriel, 159, 215 n27, 215 n30, 216 n41 Wilder, William, 212 n4 Wilkinson, R. J., xiv Winzeler, Robert L., 137 Wipadsanaa (meditation). See Intensification of religious observance, through meditation (wipadsanaa)

Louis Golomb is a linguistic anthropologist and is interested in ethnicity as expressed in both verbal and nonverbal social interaction. He has worked for more than four years among the Thai and Malay peoples. His undergraduate training was a Columbia University and he graduated cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa. He received his Ph.D. in anthropology from Stanford University. He is currently doing research work in medical anthropology.

Asian Studies at Hawaii

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