Dog Bites Farang

Dog Bites Farang

And Other Stories

Farang is the Thai word for “foreigner,” specifically, foreigners with white skin. It dates back to the period of French colonialism in neighboring Laos, and is derived from “farantse” (=French), which was then generalized to all Europeans.

Dog Bites Farang.  I was bitten by a dog the other day. Dog bites are such a common occurrence for Peace Corps Volunteers in Thailand that one of our training topics is what to do when a dog starts chasing you on your bike (keep pedaling; shout “go home” in Thai; if you have a water bottle, you can try spraying the dog). A group of us who rode to the training site together each day found that ringing our bicycle bells worked pretty well – the dogs didn’t seem to like the sound and would drop back. Of course, we were also drilled on exactly what to do if we were bitten, as several members of our group were during our first months.

 Back to the story: Walking home from school, I stopped at one of the little stores looking for something to cook for supper. I didn’t see the dog, who bit me in the back of my left calf. She slunk away barking and snarling when I turned around to look. The storekeeper and various bystanders were very concerned (more so than I was – fortunately for me!).  The storekeeper washed my leg first with alcohol and then with soap and water. He knows the people the dog belongs to, and said they were out in their field working, i.e., not reachable to consult about the dog. It’s obvious that she’s nursing puppies. She was probably scrounging for food when I unknowingly stepped too close to her.

Seeing that the dog’s teeth had barely punctured the skin and there was no bleeding, I said, in Thai, “I don’t think it’s dangerous.” The others said, “It’s dangerous!” and started making phone calls. Soon one of my English colleagues picked me up and drove me to the nearest hospital where, per instructions via cell phone from the Peace Corps nurse in Bangkok, we went to the very quiet and un-crowded ER.  In due course I was given a rabies shot and instructions to come back in three days for another one. Then my colleague took me to one of his favorite noodle stands, so there was no need to buy anything for supper.

The next morning, when I was waiting for the song teo to go into town for grocery shopping, two women walking by asked me about my dog bite – news gets around fast in the village. So I showed them my leg and assured them I was okay. (A picture of my dog bite is at the end of this post so you can look at it or not, as you wish.) Later I stopped by the little store to thank the owner again for helping me. It occurred to me that if you have to get bitten by a dog, it would be good to do it here – the people in this village will take good care of you.  The dog seems to be holding a grudge – she barks and growls at me from across the street every time I walk past the little store, and the people there yell at her to go lay down, or words to that effect. Like the School Dogs described in an earlier post, barking dogs are just part of village life.

Farang in the Village.  Since arriving here a year ago, I’ve met four other farang who live in the village. Three are men in their sixties (a Brit, a Norwegian, and a German) married to local women. The fourth, a Finn in his thirties, shares the home of a Thai woman and her two children.  While there is truth to the stereotypes of Western men coming to Thailand for sexual adventure, these guys all seem to be very family-oriented, homebody types.

We farang stick out like sore thumbs in these surroundings. The Finn has blond hair down to his shoulders. The Norwegian, who must be at least six foot five, towers over everyone. The other two men, with their salt-and-pepper hair and beard stubble, are less striking but clearly European in appearance. I don’t know any of them well – I chat with them at the weekly market or in passing, and enjoy the opportunity to speak Deutsch with the German man from time to time.

Fear of Foreigners.  I was much taken aback at first when some (by no means all) small Thai children would cower and cling to their mothers when they saw me, for example on the song teo going to or from town. The three-year-old sister of an 8th-grade student who comes over for tutoring almost every week can’t get over her fear, despite weeks of effort by her older sister and their mom to reassure her. The mom, who is a bit embarrassed by the little girl’s behavior, has taught her to greet me with a “wai” and to wave bye-bye – but the closest she will come to me is to snatch a cookie or juice box and then only when I hold it at arm’s length.

What are the children so afraid of? Probably the main thing is my very different appearance. I’m reminded of my sister Joanie telling how she used to be afraid of our German great-grandfather when she was very little, because he had a big white mustache and spoke only German.  So, with my white hair (no bushy mustache, thank goodness) and speaking only English or strongly accented Thai, I must seem as scary to this little girl as Great-Grandpa Schimmel did to my sister all those years ago.  There is another possible factor as well: Several Thai acquaintances have confirmed my observation that sometimes the word “farang” is used to frighten children who are misbehaving – it reminds me of being threatened with “the boogey man” by the older students during one-room country school days.

Farang farang.  On one of my recent Saturday trips into town, the song teo was crammed full -- small children had to sit on laps, a couple of women sat on the floor, and two men, including one of the village farang mentioned above, sat facing out the back, on the top step of the bus. His little boy sat on the lap of a woman catty-corner across from me. He and another little boy, who was sitting next to me on his grandma's lap, amused themselves by pointing at things and giggling; I couldn't understand what they were saying. Then the one with the non-Thai dad started saying "farang farang" and giggling just non-stop while pointing his finger at me. Maybe you can picture how little kids point at something, with their finger not very straight and not always aimed exactly at its target. Of course I was the only farang on the song teo, besides the boy’s dad facing out the back. The boy with the foreigner dad giggled more than the other boy, who however did his share of giggling as well. But it went on so long – more than 10 minutes -- that I started wondering what it was really about, or rather, what a preschooler might think or feel about farang.  Maybe nothing much -- maybe the same kind of thing as when they start cracking up while repeating stuff like "The pig says oink," or “Boogers!” But yet, the boy is no doubt aware that his dad is a farang.  Maybe he's even been teased at preschool or in the neighborhood for having a foreign dad. I should add that no one on the song teo, including me, said anything to the boys about their game, or whatever it was, and the dad never turned around, although he could surely hear what they were saying. When we got to town, everyone went their separate ways as always.

Another day in the life of a farang in Thailand.

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Disclaimer: As always, please remember that descriptions of my experiences here in Thailand are only descriptions, not judgments. Writing about being a farang in Thailand is a bit sensitive by the nature of the topic, however. So let me emphasize once again that these are my personal experiences and opinions, not those of the Peace Corps or any American agency, or anyone but me.