I mentioned in a previous post that many “crowded communities” (chum chon ae at, a more non-pejorative term than “slum” in Thai) are built in swamps. A close second would be along railroad right-of-ways. Walk far enough along any rail line in Bangkok and you will find very vibrant communities living-working-playing not just on the other side of the tracks, but right on top of them. Since life is so obviously shaped by this central feature of each place, communities often take their name from the railroad company or section of track they are built on.

As in the swamp communities, people living in railway crowded communities face two constant threats: eviction and fire. At a moment’s notice they can be driven out. The two threats are more related than they might first appear. The simplest way to accomplish eviction is to hire a couple enterprising toughs with gas cans and a match.

Living in Bangkok, I spent over a year watching an extended family build their home in back of our apartment block. From early in the morning until late at night they gathered scrap materials and assembled their multilevel, multifamily unit. In the hot season, they maximized shade by propping up sheet metal and plywood as broad awnings with open walls. As the year turned rainy, they consolidated the roofing material for max protection, and added walls. Scrap wood smoldered constantly under piles of dirt to make charcoal, which they sold in little paper bags folded from newspaper. At one end of the complex, women and men bathed both openly and modestly—employing a slick routine of soaping over clothes and changing under sarongs.

I felt a certain intimacy with this family, even though after months I hadn’t spent much time with them. I was always going to get around to it. But it was a long getting around, literally—because of walls and streets, it was actually much further to that back lot than other places I spent time in. One day I heard loud voices, and women crying. I looked out to see the men of the family kneeling, hands pressed together, pleading. A Mercedes was parked next to the shacks, and two men in suits and ties were barking orders. An old man of the family started toward them, again asking for mercy. Guns came out.

I remember the quiet helpless rage that rose in my throat, and I also remember thinking of lyrics to the song “If I Had A Rocket Launcher.” The Mercedes drove away. Board by board, the shacks came down. Women gathered pots and pans. By nightfall, the lot was empty. I thought, that’s a tough human price to pay for some new building project. But we lived there another year, and there was never any building—only weeds and the remains of the charcoal pit.

Urbanologist Ron Boyce identifies two powerful forces of space and time that shape the development of every city, from Seattle to Jakarta. The amazing quick-moving market in the video provides me with good musings about the forces of crowded space and limited time in Asia’s shantytowns. Friends have puzzled over why these are among my favorite places in the world. From the video, though, can you catch a glimpse of the vitality, resourcefulness, and close community possible amid oppressive surroundings in the slums?

Scott Dewey
manages/edits Geography of Grace
hung out for 3 years in Bangkok slums, and loves going back
lives in a 110-year-old house in Denver
thinks about fishing most of the time