Through My Eyes, In My Words:

Thailand and Myanmar: The Challenges of Development

Taught by Neil A. Englehart, assistant professor of government and law, and David C. Stifel, assistant professor of economics and business

Jesslyn Roebuck of Montgomery, N.Y., is a Marquis Scholar double majoring in English and international affairs. A member of the McKelvy House Scholars program, she is a Writing Associate in the College Writing Program, co-editor of The Marquis literary magazine, and a member of Arts Society. As an EXCEL Scholar she did research with Neil Englehart, assistant professor of government and law, on human rights after the Cold War. She studied at St. Andrews University, Scotland, last semester.

By Jesslyn Roebuck ’06

The opportunity to travel and the experiences that inevitably grow out of it are rewarding not only because of the magnetic allure of exploration but also because of the knowledge often unconsciously gained. In a sense, traveling to a foreign country returns us to that infantile state where every smell, every taste, every sight is new, exciting, and momentous. The sensuous excitement of travel is amplified in a country where the culture and everyday way of life is completely different from one's own. This was the way of Thailand, and it was the way of Myanmar.

Leaving for Thailand a week after the tsunami tragedy left many of us apprehensive and nervous about the trip. However, we did not go close enough to the devastation in Thailand to notice huge changes. Instead, we noticed just a sliver of the aftermath: monetary and clothing donations were in demand; some of us donated blood.

The interim course in Thailand and Myanmar focused on comparing the ways in which these countries are developing economically. The differences between the countries’ state of development were quite apparent. In Myanmar we noticed it from the seats of our tour bus when we drove over potholes that hadn't been fixed for seemingly 50 years. We noticed it when we saw horse-drawn and oxen-drawn carts in Myanmar and diesel-fuming cars in Thailand. We noticed it when a 10-year-old boy carrying his baby sister pleaded to us for money every morning outside our hotel. We even noticed it when young girls thronged around saying, "Lucky money, lucky stone. Lucky money, lucky stone!" in hopes that you would offer them money or a present in exchange for their gift of clay.

With these sights also came the beauty of a country where making merit is achieved by the construction of huge temples, pagodas, and stupas to Buddha; where walking around in modern and ancient temples you found yourself questioning your own faith in government, your own faith in religion, your own faith in what is true. And every time you thought you understood the history behind Siddhartha Gautama, you'd realize you had just scratched the dust of the surface of a religion lost to your own culture.

We could eat a meal for around 50 cents. Every time we ate we tasted chilis--hotter than most of us had ever tasted. We tried fruits, from the rank-odorous flesh of the durian fruit to the rose-colored sweet of papaya. Some of us tried fried crickets and grasshopppers; others preferred to stick to the staple sticky rice and mango.At markets and street vendors throughout Thailand and Myanmar came another lesson in economics, I suppose: the lesson of haggling. Storekeepers were used to bargaining. To avoid the higher mark-up of goods inevitably bestowed upon the "foreign," we were forced to adopt proper haggling technique. For many of us, this was a completely new experience.

This winter's interim trip to Thailand and Myanmar was an unforgettable and truly unique opportunity. I am sure snippets of memory ribbon will remain ingrained in our minds-- perhaps watching elephants paint pictures at the Chiang Mai Elephant farm in Thailand; perhaps trying fried crickets, perhaps visiting hill-tribe villages in Northern Thailand; perhaps seeing the eyes of fear and hunger on children in the streets of Myanmar, seeing their smiles and stares at our foreign indulgences; perhaps spitting betelnut juice or riding rickety bikes through the dirt streets amidst the shadows of 2500 pagodas in Bang; perhaps just being in an area of the world so different from our own that we want to embrace both it and what call home in our memories simultaneously. Returning to Lafayette we are home, but somehow different, reborn.