Lily, and other skewed accounts of my campaign for peace: The King, and Lai

Ko Lipe is a stunning island. It's picture perfect. Ringed by numerous less inhabitable islands, it's blessed with powdery white beaches, crystal-clear sea and swaying palm trees - it's that kind of place. People come here to relax, whether they choose to do so by diving, drinking, swimming, sunbathing, or doing exactly nothing. Underneath the gloss, there's also an interesting social aspect to Ko Lipe. In contrast to much of Thailand, and many of its numerous idyllic islands, it's not home to a homogenous society. And I'm not including the hordes of transient tourists who pass through it in the mix. While most of the people living on the island are ethnic Thais who have moved there from various parts of the kingdom seeking new opportunities, its native inhabitants are the Urak Lawoi, or Chao Ley in Thai, somewhat disparagingly translated as 'Sea Gypsies'.

In the island's steamy interior is a bar and restaurant, abutted by a string of bungalows, called Jack's Jungle. The owner of this establishment is Jack, a short, bearded Thai gentleman. Although it's a somewhat lazy comparison, Jack gives off the same 'humble, wise old Asian man' aura as the character 'Mr. Miyagi' from the film 'The Karate Kid'. He doesn't say much, but when he speaks, you listen. So it was my good fortune to be in Jack's bar - and in earshot of his table - one night while he was recounting a story to a group of eager and attentive visitors. At first, I was surprised to hear him so talkative. It was only when I noticed the almost finished bottle of Johnny Walker Black on their table that I realized why Jack was so forthcoming that particular night. While the whiskey had warmed him to the task of storytelling, it hadn't robbed him of his calmness. He delivered his tale in a quiet, measured manner that had his companions gripped. It felt like it was not only me, but the whole of the restaurant that was tuned in. The only dissenter was Jack's dog 'Spot'. Lying on the floor at his master's side, head slumped over his paws and a frown on his face, the dog would occasionally look up as if to ask 'What the hell are you going on about?'.

"Lai was born on this island. She was Chao Ley, original original. Her family, from a long time ago, were living here. Her great-grandfather was a very famous man. His name was Tokiri. He brought his people here from Lanta island, one hundred maybe one hundred fifty years ago." "So not original original then?" one of the people at the table piped up. "It's ok. Original enough. Before Thai people came here, for sure," Jack replied. "Chao Ley people are sea people - catching fish, trading fish, selling fish, drying fish, eating fish. They even worship the sea and its fish! The Chao Ley say they must live where they can see the ocean. If not, they cannot live. But Lai was different. She never put one toe in the ocean and stopped eating fish when she was very young. Not only stopped eating fish, but she complained about fish. The smell, the bones. For her fish tasted bad, smelled bad. She could not stand fish and she was scared of the sea." There were a few chuckles at the table.

The Chao Ley are ethnically distinct from the Thai people. They are nominally Buddhist but, in reality, they adhere to their ancient animist beliefs. There are no temples on Ko Lipe. They have traditionally followed a subsistence way of life, living off the ocean's bounty. These days, more and more of the Chao Ley are becoming involved in tourist activities, primarily serving as tailboat taxi drivers for those wanting to move about, or explore, the island and its surrounds. A few own and run some basic guesthouses and restaurants. However, they are still largely tied to the ocean and supply the island's mainly Thai-owned restaurants with their freshly-caught seafood.

"Lai wasn't yet a teenager at that time and was getting very thin. She was eating only rice brought from the towns in Thailand. Maybe some coconut. And she could not sleep in any home because of the fishy smell. Every night she slept on the beach. If it rained, she slept under a house, but not inside. Never. She had no friends. The other children teased her. Sometimes, the really naughty boys chased her, holding a fish in their hands. She would run away and hide for a long time. Then one day she disappeared. Gone!" The table, along with the entire restaurant it seemed, was hushed. "Some people wanted to look for her, but not everyone. Others, even from her own family, said, 'No, leave her. She just complains. That girl hates fish. She hates the sea. She never even learned to swim. She is a strange one. She is not a normal Chao Ley. Her great-grandfather, Tokiri, would be very sad to see this child.' Even Lai's own father agreed. 'It's true. She is never happy. She only makes problems and what can we feed the girl? We cannot force her to eat our fish. She is growing thin and weak, but we are not to blame.' After some discussion, it was decided not to search for Lai; to leave her to her own fate." Jack stopped talking and the restaurant fell silent. He leaned down to his side and gave Spot a rub. The dog rolled over onto its back, legs in the air, asking for more attention. "This one protects me. If there is a snake nearby, he will yap yap yap to tell me." Jack righted himself and poured another scotch, disappointing his dog in the process. The visitors at his table also clearly weren't satisfied at the cliffhanger in Jack's story. "So what actually happened to Lai?" asked one of them. "Oh, there were many rumors. She died in a cave. She was taken out to sea."

It was here that Jack's story seemed to converge with one I'd heard on a previous visit to the island. A group of divers had been on a day's trip to some dive sites in the area surrounding Ko Lipe. In between dives, they'd set course for a small island with a white sand beach, with a view to stopping there for lunch. Some of the divers were taking the opportunity for a quick snooze aboard the boat, soaking in the midday sun. On the way to the island, the boat passed nearby another, even smaller island - no more than a rocky outcrop really. Those who were awake couldn't believe what they saw. On this tiny island, on her haunches among the rocks and glaring at the passing boat, was a wild-haired old woman. She was dressed in rags and looked weather-beaten but otherwise relatively healthy. The divers watching this sight shook their sleeping friends awake, needing confirmation that they weren't imagining this scene. The awoken divers saw the same haggard creature perched amidst the rocks. Then, as if she'd suddenly remembered that it was something she needed to do, the woman picked up an object from beside her, stood up and raised it above her head. It was a framed portrait of some kind. It was fairly small in size and they were too far away to make out exactly what it depicted. The woman stood there brandishing the portrait, thrusting it violently towards the passing onlookers. It was almost as if she was trying to throw the image on it at the people staring at her.

When the divers asked the boat crew and dive staff about the woman and the portrait, they were met with shrugs for the most part. A few words were passed in the local lingo, and then one of the diving guides explained that the woman's husband was a fisherman who dropped her at the island while he went out to get his daily catch. "She's bored at home," he said. "She prefers to be near her husband when he goes fishing, but he can't take her on his boat because she disturbs the fish." There was a sprinkling of laughter from the locals and one or two of the foreign divers joined in. They moored at a pristine little island, ate their packed lunch on the beach and spoke nothing more of the incident for the remainder of the day.

I began to surmise what had actually happened to the outcast, Lai. Not willing to put up with her odd behavior and rejection of the things most sacred to them, certain members of the community had forced her aboard one of their vessels, carried her out to sea and dumped her on a tiny, unpopulated island. There she could cause nobody any bother. She had remained on this island, marooned, ever since. I could only guess what portrait she carried with her. Perhaps it was of her pioneering ancestor, Tokiri; a cynical reminder of all she'd rejected. It seemed a terribly cruel thing to do; to banish a helpless young girl to a solitary existence on an island where she'd grown old and wretched. I wondered how she'd survived all this time; what she'd eaten. I could sympathize with the frustrations of her family and community, but this was going too far. The indifference of the locals who left her there to rot, as well as their audacity in taking foreign tourists straight past the island, in full view of this poor soul, left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Not to mention that Jack appeared to get some kind of joy out of telling this story. I ordered my bill.

Apparently, one of the guests seated at Jack's table had heard the same story as I had, about a woman being spotted alone on an island. This was hardly surprising as it was pretty much folklore on Ko Lipe. The young man gave a brief version of what he'd been told and seemed to come to the same conclusion as me. "So Lai was left alone on the island! That is not right! It's just not fair." Before he could continue, Jack gently interjected. "No, no, no my friend. I know the woman from this story. Of course. This is a very famous story on this small island of ours." Jack looked around his table. Nobody said a word. I put my bill, unpaid, to the side. "I expect you know about our king."

On the surface Ko Lipe seems the very picture of tranquility and harmony, and for the most part this is true. The gorgeous little island is complemented by a rustic, peaceful atmosphere. However, as with any space shared by different groups of people, there are disputes and disagreements. These pertain mainly to land and water rights. There is a severe shortage of water on Ko Lipe - a situation getting worse as the island develops and more tourists arrive. The Urak Lawoi, or Chao Ley, have no tradition of land ownership and much of the land they historically occupied has been seized by local landowners and outsiders. As a result of this, many Chao Ley have migrated inland, beyond sight of the ocean. They have also had to abandon many of their traditional fishing methods - sometimes in favor of the destructive practice of dynamite fishing - in order to compete with large commercial fishing fleets. Despite these differences, and their separate ethnicity and identity, the Chao Ley remain utterly loyal to the Thai king. As in the rest of the country, the king is bestowed a God-like reverence. His image – in some or other guise - adorns most shops, restaurants and homes on the island. Dissent against the monarchy is rare in Thailand - though said to be growing - and those deemed to have defamed or slighted the king in any way are liable to be charged with the crime of lese majesty and face strict punishment. Several foreigners have found this out to their cost over the years.

"I must respect the king. Because I am a Thai person," Jack continued. "And the Chao Ley also love and respect our king because, actually, they are also Thai people. They have lived inside Thailand for a long time. They are Thai citizens, they can have a Thai passport. That is why they love our king. But this woman, she is too much." Jack tapped his index finger against his temple. "She is a bit crazy I think. She loves only two people. Her husband and the king. Even her children, not. They stay with her sister. Every day, when her husband goes out fishing, she goes with him. She does not want to stay in the village without him. And she carries with her a portrait of the king. Her husband needs to concentrate while he is fishing. He cannot have this crazy wife with him, so he drops her on the island. There, she is not alone because she carries with her the picture of the other man she loves, the king. At the end of every day, when her husband is finished fishing, he collects her from the island and they return to the village. This is the lady that people see. I know it sounds strange, but it is true." Jack, enjoying the disbelief on the faces of his friends, grinned. A big, toothy grin. The whiskey was finished by now and it was getting late. Nobody said a word for a while until Jack spoke again. "I hope you all enjoyed your meals tonight." As most of his table companions murmured their approval, the same young man who had spoken up earlier did so again. "But Jack, we still don't know what happened to Lai." "Oh Lai," said Jack, "Lai." And then he spoke the name again, this time much more loudly and assertively.

A pleasant-looking, elderly lady emerged from the kitchen in front of their table wearing an apron. "Everybody, this is Lai. She cooked your delicious meals. And she is also my wonderful wife." Lai smiled warmly at the guests. As if he felt it unfair to leave the story finished with such a twist, Jack explained. "Lai left the village at that time because she couldn't bear the cruel teasing any more. Of course, she also hated the ocean and its fishy smells. She walked into the interior of the island and came across a family who lived alone in a small hut. The couple had a son but no daughter, so they happily took Lai in to help the mother with the cooking. This is where she learnt to cook so well. This family had their own chickens and grew vegetables, which they mostly ate. Sometimes, they would barter these things for fish from the fishing families but this was ok for Lai. She even grew not to hate fish so much. Now she will cook fish, but she still won't eat it." Lai blushed a little. "Lai didn't return to see her family for a long time. When she was seventeen, she met a young man who had just moved to Ko Lipe from the mainland. He was a Thai, and she a Chao Ley but they fell in love. That man was me. And here we are." Jack laughed heartily. "You see, Lai is not so different to her great-grandfather, Tokiri. They are both pioneers. Tokiri brought his people to the shores of this island where they lived for many years. Then his great-granddaughter moved away from the beach into the interior, beyond sight of the ocean, and now her people are also following. Time changes many things. The Chao Ley thought they could not live without seeing the ocean, but now they learn they can and they have to. Just like Lai."