Rojak Timeout (by Happy Belly)

Just like the spicy rojak salad dish, the postings here are about anything and everything under the sun. They're meant to make you a keen, lean, lovin' Internet machine as you wait for the next story to be posted by our authors.

Today's Rojak Timeout is by Happy Belly in Thailand.


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Happy Belly says:

My neighbourhood the battle zone

For the first time in my six years in Bangkok, I went to the supermarket on Sunday morning to seriously stock up my fridge. Not my usual flippant two tubes of Pringles and one pack of Kit Kat but proper rice and canned food.





When I got to Tops, it seemed that the entire neighbourhood had the same idea – and had emptied the shelves. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Not during the coup, not during other mass protests.

I’d left the stocking up a bit late and there was no fresh food to be had. No pork, no chicken, no beef, except for some $60 airflown Aussie beef that no one had touched. Even the remaining veggies looked sad and stringy. I had to scramble for whatever was left because it certainly felt as though locusts had descended on the supermarket.



The expatriates were loading their shopping carts with frozen pizzas, pasta sauces, canned tuna, wine, milk and bread. The locals on the other hand were going for instant noodles, canned sardines and soft drinks. At least there wasn’t going to be a fight there. What else do people buy in a crisis? Toilet paper and sanitary napkins were apparently top picks.

No one – I suspect not even the government – had expected the situation to end up in such a protracted state of violence across the city. The clashes that began on Thursday night had killed 33 and injured 239 across Bangkok by Sunday night.



Many of those killed were innocent civilians. A taxi driver who dropped off a passenger got shot in his lung. A charity medic got killed while trying to help an injured protester. A singer and his friend were on the balcony of his 27th floor apartment. Both got shot, one died.



My apartment is just three short streets away from one of the deadliest flash points between troops and protesters. On Saturday, I had felt safe enough to go for a walk and ambled down the alleys that led to the disputed road (see photos) but by Sunday I wasn’t going anywhere near there.

The road which I take to go to work is now a battlefield between the troops (with their rifles and live ammunition) and the protesters (with their mini Molotov cocktails and firecrackers). The spot where the first fatality fell is a few steps from my favourite roast duck shop. The street where I take a motorcycle taxi from went up in flames.



There’s no immediate end in sight, despite the government’s repeated assurance that they have everything under control. The violence is escalating and spreading to more spots in the city and neighbouring provinces. The protesters are willing to negotiate but the government says it’s gone beyond the point of negotiation.



Violence begets violence. And the people who suffer are the residents in the hot zones where smoke plumes, gunshots and explosions reign. There are many who have no access to food because stepping out of their apartment means walking straight into the live firing range.

As for me, I’m going to hole up in my apartment – not that I have a choice since I’m effectively sealed in with all the roadblocks around – eat up all the food in my fridge and hope that the supermarket restock the shelves soon.