It is well-known that superstition is deeply ingrained in Thailand, from the poorest farmers to the richest businessmen, politicians and even prime ministers. If things go wrong, malevolent spirits often get the blame and the only way to solve the issue is to indulge in exotic ceremonies to appease them. It makes sense really -- in Thailand you won't get anywhere until you've got the ghosts and the supernatural on your side.
An example emerged last week when the leader of the quaintly named Thai Civilised Party upset his former school in Phitsanulok. Apparently he was not particularly complimentary about his alma mater, so they responded in traditional fashion, putting a curse on him, burning dried chilies and salt, accompanied by prayers that did not wish him well.
That's one way of sorting out a dispute. Maybe they should try it out in Britain -- a few black magic curses here and there and all this Brexit nonsense could be sorted at the wave of a wand.
The finest example of political cursing in Thailand came during the 1992 crisis when the legendary Stir-Fried Cursers citizens group surfaced. Less than impressed with the powers-that-be, they felt that a few timely curses were in order and they turned out to be instrumental in overturning the forces of darkness.
The cursers carried out what was termed "a black magic rite to conquer the tyrants and devil parties". And the black magic they were talking about was definitely not a box of chocolates. It was an elaborate affair. Their combination of stir-fried chilies in a giant wok, second-hand coffins and broken pestles may have looked like props for a dodgy Thai horror movie, but they certainly gave the perceived bad guys some unpleasant dreams at the very least.
Maybe the new government should consider establishing a Ministry of Magic to ensure that all potential tyrants and devils turn into toads, lizards and bats forthwith.
Sweet dreams
Many Thai government ministers over the years have turned to prominent fortune tellers to point them in the right direction, which is frankly bit of a worry. Some citizens have expressed concern that crucial decisions on the future of the Kingdom could rest on interpreting the juxtaposition of the planets, or the queen of spades popping up in the wrong place. Then of course, there are the lines on your palm which can sometimes portend assorted horrors. It's probably just as well that the art of reading tea leaves isn't such a popular pursuit in Thailand or we would be in real trouble.
Then there are the dreams. A weird dream could possibly mean a complete change in policy. Apparently, if you dream about falling off a buffalo it usually foretells some kind of disaster. So let's hope all our potential leaders have sweet dreams and don't take a spill while aboard buffaloes, elephants, donkeys or whatever. Admittedly they are more likely to be aboard Benzes.
Full steam ahead
Sometimes being superstitious seems to bring the right results. A few years ago the Thai railways (SRT) suffered an embarrassing number of derailments over a relatively short period. In 2014, even the luxury Oriental International Express fell off the rails near Kanchanaburi.
Something had to be done.
It will come as no surprise that Thai railway officials are a superstitious lot and thought deeply about what was causing these derailments, apart from the possible reason that the tracks were not maintained properly.
They found the answer in unexpected fashion.
At the SRT headquarters there was a 50-year-old painting depicting an ancient steam engine chugging its way out of Hua Lamphong.
Someone noticed the painting had been damaged, with a small chunk of track missing, just like the real thing. It was decided that the damaged painting was a bad omen and it was subsequently restored.
It seemed to work and the number of derailments noticeably decreased since the painting was spruced up with the missing bit of rail restored. I hope this isn't tempting fate.
They're no angels
One of the weirdest recent examples of supernatural silliness occurred a couple of years ago when there was a sudden clamour for luk thep (angel dolls). Remember them? They were oversized creepy-looking dolls which their adult owners treated like human beings, chatting to them as if they were real.
These disturbing dolls were said to possess a haunted spirit, but were supposed to bring good luck. Some were so weird that you couldn't help wondering if they could be distant relations to Chucky, the psychopathic killer doll from those Child's Play horror movies.
I recall a splendid photo of a woman walking through a Bangkok market struggling to carry two of these oversized dolls but still managing to play with her precious smartphone.
If nothing else, the angel doll fad acted as a reminder that Amazing Thailand had not lost its capacity for amazingness.
Stroke of fortune
To be fair to fortune tellers, they sometimes get it right. An English friend in Bangkok married to a Thai was told by a fortune teller that an unexpected visitor would change his life. The forecast turned out to be spot on. Two weeks later his mother-in-law arrived on his doorstep and ensconced herself at his residence. A life-changer indeed.
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