"PHUKET, Thailand (AP) -- His face a mask of otherworldly
repose, the teen-age disciple didn't bat an eye when the temple
elder held his mouth open and pierced his cheek with a 3-foot-long
steel spike, like a needle punching through cloth.
Dripping blood from the wound in his face, the teen-ager -- along
with scores of others like him -- marched down the streets of
Phuket, spurred by the din of Chinese music, firecrackers and
cheers from a crowd that occasionally wiped his face clean and
stuck money on the spike.
"When I'm pierced, I don't feel anything," Udom Than said. "I'm
possessed."
Once a year, Phuket changes from Thailand's best-known tropical
island into a stage for one of the world's most bizarre rituals of
self-mortification -- oddly known as the Vegetarian Festival.
Across Thailand, the festival is traditionally celebrated in the
ninth lunar month of the Chinese year, ending today. During that
time, many of Thailand's 6 million or so ethnic Chinese will
refrain from eating meat.
But on Phuket, a beach paradise on the Andaman Sea, 430 miles south
of Bangkok, the festival takes a masochistic turn, drawing large
crowds of spectators at the slowest part of the tourist
season.
For teen-age disciples, the festival is a rite of toughness. But
older men and some women, motivated chiefly by prestige and
tradition, make up the largest number of participants. All
participants abstain from meat, alcohol and sex for nine days
before the piercing.
"The body piercing, I think, is getting out of hand," said a temple
elder, speaking on condition of anonymity. "It's become a big
tourist attraction, with more and more youngsters getting involved
each year, sort of a macho thing."
Devotees gather at several temples honoring Chinese gods and
spirits then undergo a series of purification rituals that, after
several days, culminate in a trance.
They roll back their eyes, shake their heads, dance -- whatever it
takes to block out the pain -- then pierce their bodies in an
ultimate expression of religious devotion.
Most put a single steel rod ranging in width from a quarter-inch to
an inch, through one cheek. The more experienced or daring might
put four through their cheeks at crazily crossed angles, another
through the skin of their necks, and maybe one or two more through
their arms.
Others choose more bizarre objects to pierce their bodies: a
samurai sword, an umbrella, a small tree, a sailfish, a musket, a
lamp -- one year, even the kitchen sink, with the faucet plunged
through the cheek and the basin carried by a helper.
This year, a man sprayed blood down his chest as he ripped his
tongue on a logging saw. Most marchers don't bleed much, though --
until the pierced objects are withdrawn, uncorking their
wounds.
Though they are rarely needed, ambulances stand by to transport
those overcome by shock to the hospital. Apart from soreness,
little real damage is done.
Some spectators along the parade route sometimes offer tea to the
marchers. But it's more symbolic than helpful, since most can't
swallow well with a mouth full of steel.
Phuket health authorities have advised the temples to take
precautions -- such as not sharing spikes and wearing rubber gloves
when handling them -- against the blood-borne HIV virus that causes
AIDS.
The Phuket version of the festival has its roots in the discovery
of tin on the island about 160 years ago and the ensuing arrival of
Chinese laborers to work the mines. An epidemic swept the island at
the same time a Chinese opera troupe was touring to entertain the
workers.
One performer suggested the Chinese were victimized by the scourge
because they had failed to observe traditions, including the
festival. Thereafter, the occasion was marked with unusual fervency
and eventually, acts of self-mortification crept into the
observance.
At the start of the festival, worshippers deposit fruit and incense
at the temples. Each temple also sponsors a parade, which is
preceded the night before by men and women reputedly becoming
possessed by the gods and speaking in ancient Chinese. Some walk on
hot coals, others climb blade ladders.
The next day, they pierce themselves and march.
"It's the faith -- faith in the gods here," one disciple, who gave
his name only as Thisan, said before adding: "Sorry, that's enough
now -- it hurts."
