Meeting the
lost sorcerers of Thailand
Francis Wilmer
September 14, 2016 Southeast
Asia Globe
Dwelling in the forest and dabbling in
magic, the hermit sages known as ruesee have long inhabited
the fringes of Thai Buddhism. Now, this disappearing breed of
mystics are turning to modern marketing in their race for
survival
The sun has yet to peek above the treetops in
northern Thailand’s Uttaradit province. Rain is
hammering down onto the canopy, causing thick water drops to
coalesce on leaves and fall heavily onto the earth.
As dawn approaches, a rhythmic, elongated Pali chant
can be heard through the trees. An orange candle illuminates a
heavily bearded man, draped in tiger skin, who is sitting
cross-legged on the ground in a morning ritual to bless the
rainforest ahead of the coming day.
He goes by the name Ruesee Ketmunee and is one of a
disappearing breed of mystics. The
word ruesee has many
interpretations, but it can be best translated as ‘sorcerer’. The
direct translation, ‘forest monk’, fails to take into account the
fact that many ruesee practice magic. And they are a far cry from
the region’s long tradition of forest-dwelling monks, falling
somewhere between sage, monk and wizard.
Ketmunee splits his time between his rented house
outside a rural village and the nearby forest. This part-time
return to the modern world came in 2013, after he had lived in
caves for five years.
A cultural descendant of
the rishi hermit sages
of India, the priorities of each individual ruesee differs: some
act as healers, and others perform magic for hire, such as curse
removals or exorcisms. Some also claim the ability to bring wealth
and good fortune through the amulets and potions that they create
and bless.
A more traditional purpose is to live an austere,
simple life so as to gain a deeper understanding of the
universe, in imitation of the Buddha. It is estimated that fewer
than 100 remain in Thailand, and many ruesee, who are outcasts from
mainstream Theravada Buddhism, find it difficult to gain widespread
acceptance.
Far from the Uttaradit jungle, in a suburban housing
estate outside of Chiang Mai, a gaggle of disciples dressed mostly
in white mingle in the front yard of a modern townhouse.
Forming a loose line, one by one they enter the living room where
Ruesee Phuttavet, dressed in black and wearing dark sunglasses,
sits atop a small stool. This is
a waikrue, or ‘master worship’, ceremony
commonly found in schools and temples across the country. Today, it
comes with a ruesee twist.
“Ruesee are meant to help people, heal people, help
bring them closer to the Buddha,” Phuttavet says. “As long as I am
capable, I will help with whatever they ask.”
Day to day, Phuttavet assists people with problems
ranging from spiritual to financial and romantic, offering both
guidance and practical solutions, as well as healing physical
ailments. Often, this help comes in amulet form: one amulet to help
with family life, another to bring great wealth. He also offers a
variety of potions, which he mixes himself. Love potions garner the
most attention and come with a warning to use
responsibly.
Before the waikrue ceremony begins Phuttavet holds
up a ceremonial dagger and proceeds to gently push it into the roof
of his mouth. A stack of white linen sheets is laid in front of him
and he spits blood onto each of them. Once finished he lifts his
head and opens his jaw to show that, miraculously, he hasn’t
suffered any wounds. The sheets will later be distributed amongst
his devotees as good luck charms.
As each disciple finally enters the room, they fall
to their knees at Phuttavet’s feet. A large golden mask, moulded
into the face of a ruesee god, is lifted over their heads as
Phuttavet mumbles a blessing.
While some politely proffer their thanks and move
on, others erupt into an uncontrollable frenzy, howling and
thrashing about on the floor as assistants attempt to pin them
down. “The mask unlocks the spirits inside of them. Particularly if
they have spirit tattoos – if they have a tattoo of a tiger, they
will act like a tiger,” Phuttavet says. “This gives them strength
and courage.” Typically, the fits last no more than ten to 20
seconds before worshippers pull themselves up off the floor and
sheepishly move on.
Hailing from a family of ruesee and magic men,
Phuttavet describes the “clear path” that was laid out for him. “My
father was a magic teacher and my grandfather was a ruesee, so I
was always going to go into this line of work.”
Phuttavet is very much a ruesee of
the modern age. He is internationally travelled, speaks serviceable
English, owns three properties and holds a master’s degree in Thai
language from Chiang Mai University. His Facebook page boasts more
than 4,000 followers, and a fan page has also sprung up, managed by
his disciples. He posts Instagram-style shots that document his
spirituality. Through Facebook and his online shop, he sells
charms, amulets and potions for the devotee in
need.
Back at the small jungle camp in Uttaradit, Ketmunee
reminisces about a tougher upbringing, with fewer opportunities, in
Thailand’s impoverished Isaan province. “My father was a poor
farmer. I worked in a rubber factory when I was 14 after spending
time as a novice monk. But I always knew I wanted to do something
more spiritual.”
Ketmunee displays his worldly possessions on a straw
mat: two grey cloths cut and worn in the same style as monk robes,
a linen bag, leopard-print hat, sleeping mat with blanket, a book
of holy texts and his bead necklace. “I lived with just this for
all those years in the caves,” he says, patting the bag. “You can
find whatever you need in nature, and if I get sick I can just heal
myself.”
While ruesee often have a small
following of disciples, they are considered to be
a niche
part of Buddhism. Their
use of magic and ties to some darker elements of Hinduism leaves
mainstream Theravada adherents uneasy.
“Belief in ruesee is separate
to organised religion,” says Somkiat Lophetcharat, a Thai religious
scholar. “It’s a strand of belief not incorporated into any
mainstream religious practice.”
Somchot Ong-Sakul, associate humanities professor at
Chiang Mai University, points out that ruesee played a significant
role in ancient Thai kingdoms, such as Lanna 1,000 years ago, and
were instrumental in founding the cities of Chiang Mai and
Lamphun.
“However, the ruling classes were
uneasy about the degree of power the ruesee held. They wanted to
keep their status as rulers, and the privileges given to ruesee
were gradually phased out,” Somchot says. “Thai people today are
wary of the ruesee because of preconceptions that ruesee aren’t
Buddhist. They aren’t associated with righteousness like Buddhism
is.”
Rumours of black magic, curses and even murder
swirl. Most Thais have never seen a ruesee in the flesh, except on
television where they are typically portrayed in period dramas as
eccentric sorcerers with sinister powers.
The second floor of Phuttavet’s townhouse does
little to dissuade this stereotype, with its statues of gods
holding giant phalluses, Hindu sculptures showing couples embracing
in Kama Sutra sex positions and bottles of love potions stacked in
the corner.
“We’re not monks. That’s what is so useful about
ruesee. We can help with things that monks will not want to talk
about,” Phuttavet says, referring to matters of love and
lust.
Turning to the subject of murders rumoured to have
been orchestrated by ruesee, his grin disappears. “There are some
cases of this, but the vast majority of us are good, just like
everyday people. Sometimes, though, people come to ask of me spells
I will not do – I have morals just like normal people,” he
says.
In Uttaradit, Ketmunee chuckles when asked about the
portrayal of ruesee in the media. “I don’t really watch television,
but we are nothing like how they portray us. I just like to be
alone, to focus on my meditation, to bless the world around me,” he
says.
Yet he still feels the need to modernise. With the
help of a loyal disciple, he started a Facebook page in 2013 that
now has more than 1,000 followers. He also posts heavily edited
photos of himself, along with mystical amulets and status updates
quoting Buddhist texts.
This ancient profession is now taking advantage of
social media marketing as ruesee look to shape their personal style
of magic into a brand. The largest financial income for many ruesee
comes via the international touring circuit. Popular destinations
include Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia, countries where a belief
in mystics is commonplace and those with an air of the exotic find
themselves in high demand. Phuttavet and Ketmunee both travel
overseas to hold blessing ceremonies and healing
seminars.
Ketmunee is targeting the lucrative,
growing Chinese market and regularly posts images on Facebook
accompanied by text in Mandarin – online marketing graft that seems
to be paying off. A follower recently travelled from China just to
receive a blessing. As with monks, ruesee claim to accept money
purely on a donation basis, but you can’t put a price on spiritual
enlightenment. This business plan appears to be capturing a niche
but rich market. The disciples at Phuttavet’s waikrue ceremony, for
example, all appear to be wealthy and successful.
Ronnavit Varin, a Thai-American follower, says he
has travelled from California for the waikrue ceremony. “I come
every year; it’s extremely important to me,” he says. “I used to be
in the army, and before I was deployed to Afghanistan I put on an
amulet [blessed by Phuttavet]. I had a few close calls there, bombs
exploding right next to me. I’m certain the amulet saved my
life.”