'From Bannang Sata Yala," along with PromptPay details for contactless payment, read the sign at the back of a pickup truck parked across the street from the mosque next to Thong Lor Metropolitan Police Station. This is a find on my neighbourhood roaming day. Because at this time of year I would usually have set myself up in Pattani as a launchpad for the annual durian eating season in three southern border provinces. In my pre-corona blueprint, the imagined highlight would be an-all durian day along multiple stalls lining the roadside of Ton Sai, a spot in Narathiwat where a work trip in July 2019 placed me in the divine durian abode. A large fruit picked, weighed and cut open by a lady vendor produced the prettiest plump golden mounds -- the most delicious durian I have ever wrapped my taste buds around. Amid oohs and aahs from Thai colleagues who had actually just finished another fruit before our arrival, plus the expression on my face while relishing that mouthful, must have boosted the courage in a foreign expert I was interpreting for to brave an encounter. Still, that pile of terrifying spiky fruit apparently overwhelmed his other colleagues who opted out. A globetrotting development expert, he nodded his approval as he finished his piece with no trace of aversion.
Specifically, I planned to visit Ton Sai, for the soil of Narathiwat nourishes the most delicious durians at absurdly cheap prices away from the run-of-the-mill Golden Pillow range vendors prejudge Bangkokians to like. The second plan of action on the imagined blueprint calls for house visits for the deep South's version of durian with sticky rice whose raw charm and harmonious blend are worth more than any Instagram-ability. Locals don't cook sticky rice in coconut milk, instead it is sprinkled, freshly pressed, over the rice, with durian flesh placed on top and a bowl of sugar to the side, if one needs it. My imagined blueprint also features chancing upon juicy rambutan again or perhaps mangosteen from someone's backyard as experienced in Tanjunglimu. And possibly the yummiest longgong I could only look at while interpreting during a very intense session with villagers in Tanyongmas, Narathiwat some years ago. The kind villagers packed me a big bag to go. The longgong soothed me and brought me back to life after a day spent interpreting heartbreaking stories. These are treats Thailand's best money cannot buy, only found in people's hospitality somewhere in Narathiwat, Yala and Pattani while on interpreting assignments. Or even when not on assignment, just dropping by, the villagers would send someone to the backyard to make sure I wouldn't leave un-fruited, emptyhanded.
So durian from villagers in Bannang Sata Yala (usually associated with insurgency) to Soi Thong Lor Bangkok onboard the pick-up truck is the closest ever to implementing the blueprint. A trio of enthusiastic boys rummaged through several baskets in search of a ripe one, quietly focused on the task of selecting and cutting. The supervisor-driver who speaks like a Bangkokian told me they received the approval of the district authority to park and operate in the neighbourhood. It's a perfect spot because Thong Lor seems to house a sizeable community of Muslims, so they can find the appropriate food and access to prayers. "These younger brothers come along with the durian, because they have nothing to do back home."
People are protesting against the multi-billion-baht industrial complex for Chana district of Songkhla approved in the name of job creation by the cabinet. Exactly what kind of jobs will there be for locals like these boys from Bannang Sata? How much socio-economic, demographic research has been done into a workforce supply that remains on shelf? In years of interpreting, I came across just once a large group of able-bodied men from Songkhla in one place, during a safety workshop for an oil rig. All of them did manual labour, most likely the lowest-paid in an oil rig operation. Asian faces in white collar jobs are Bangkokians or Vietnamese, with engineering or science degrees. Young men from villages in the deep South very rarely drag themselves through secondary mainstream education. From the start there exists this glaring mismatch between hiring demand at a future Chana complex versus the local pool of workers and their qualifications. How many of the cream jobs will locals be able to access? Stevedores, security guards for them maybe? A clearer and more practical justification than a formulaic promise of jobs for locals is needed for such a grand plan funded by public money.
Similar to the crew manning durian truck from Bannang Sata, my work led me to encounter many young men in Yala, Narathiwat and Pattani whose youthful energy and good hearts have been cast adrift and wasted. "Life must be purposeful," said His Holiness the Dalai Lama. These youths too are looking for purpose. To be able to identify and fulfil meaningful purposes, they need to start by having equal opportunities in good quality education early on as well as skills training that matches their disposition and is practical in their local context. Looking at reality on the ground, Chana Industrial Complex equates to a mission to Mars for most of them.
Though durian from Bannang Sata in Thong Lor did not give the same effect as my pre-corona durian experience in Ton Sai, it was still uplifting in more ways than one. #eternal love of durian.
Supapohn Kanwerayotin is an independent translator. She worked at the Bangkok Post from 1986-1996, and the BBC World Service radio from 1996-2000.