Songkran signals the approach of the rainy season. The collision of wet warm fronts with hot dry fronts stimulate epic lightning storms. My girlfriend always insisted on shutting off every electrical device in the house other than the fans.
Thais shiver in fear of a lightning strike with good reason.
Everyone knew someone who had died from a lightning strike while working in the rice paddies.
“Me too,” I added one stormy evening.
“Have friend die in nah-khao?” Thais don’t believe that westerners have anything in common with their lives.
“Yes, but not in America. In Vietnam. My friend was a soldier. He was walking in a rice paddy during a storm. Lightning struck him dead. One second.”
“Chai. Wi-chian.”
Everyone nodded their heads and even more so upon the mention of the goddess of lightning Mek-laa. Thais covered their heads and shudder with fear. “Not say name.”
Thais are only a little superstitious.
No more so than me.
Once when I was a young boy my older brother and I sat on our roof to watch the thunder storm. A lightning bolt struck the tree nearest the house and split the trunk in half. After that exhibition of nature I realized you never sit on a roof during a lightning storm.
Sometimes superstitions are common sense.
