The Death of King Bhumibol
When I recently joined Getty, I knew that my new role would be different to my previous job. My staff position is with Getty Images News, meaning that, on the whole, there will be no more entertainment or sport with my focus being purely on news and features. One aspect of this is their coverage of breaking global news. I was drinking a coffee near Victoria Station in London when I received a BBC news alert, informing me of the death of Thailand's King Bhumibol. Within moments of the text, my phone rang.
I've only ever been to Thailand once before, during a decidedly ambitious six week/nine city round-the-world trip in my early twenties so flying to Bangkok for work (and hopefully longer than 48 hours) was an uplifting experience. After the call, I rushed home, threw a few things into a suitcase and got on the first flight from London Heathrow. My hour at the airport was spent researching the story and trying to learn as much as I could about the political situation in Thailand, the incredibly strict lese majeste laws and what would probably happen next.
It turns out that King Bhumibol was more than just a man in charge. He was seen by the huge majority as the Father of the country, seeing it through difficult political times, a governmental coup and the country's rapid development into a world business power. Sitting on the throne for over 70 years, he was the only Ruler that most Thai people have ever known and, as such, was looked on as a hugely stabilising force.
The unfortunate thing about having to fly into a country after the story breaks is that you will always land into a "catch-up" situation. There's no way on earth that you can compete with the local photographers who A) know the lay of the land, B) have strong and useful contacts on the ground and C) were actually in the same timezone when the news broke. Because of this, those first 24 hours are a stressful time, particularly so in this case as my flight landed just as the King's body was being moved through the streets of Bangkok, to the Grand Palace. Despite all attempts to part the traffic from the airport with telekinesis, my powers failed and I managed to miss everything by a matter of an hour. Not a good start.
After having a quick wander around the Grand Palace area and the surrounding streets, photographing people as they watched the live broadcast of the ceremonies in their shops.
When I packed my gear for the trip, I'd had to throw everything in as I had no idea what the situation would be like once I landed. This resulted in me lugging everything from my Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8G ED AF-S NIKKOR through to my Nikon 500mm f/4E FL ED VR, with most of the stuff in between, plus three camera bodies. In the end, I didn't end up using anything beyond the AF-S NIKKOR 70-200mm f/2.8G ED VR II, due to the fact that it's severely frowned upon, if not outright against the rules, to photograph members of the Royal family. Coming from the UK, where there are photographers whose only subject is "Royals and their associated offspring", it's quite a shock to be ordered to sit on the floor as they drive past, or stand in the case of the Crown Prince. Either way, a raised camera or, heaven forbid, a click of a shutter, and all around will deliver a lecture on your bad behaviour.
Aside from that slice of strict social decorum, the Thai people that I met were the most welcoming and friendly bunch that I've met in a longtime. Coming after the near-constant threat of robbery in Rio, it felt insanely liberating to be able to wander alone down backstreets and alleyways, at any time of day, with my cameras on display, knowing that I'd be greeted by nods and smiles from anyone I met. My complete lack of Thai lingual skills made me feel as stupid as ever but the people I approached went out of their way to help, giving me access to their homes, letting me take photographs of them at work and allowing me to photograph them as they mourned. Their King would be proud to know that, following his death, his people are following in his guidance of positivity and unity.
During my five days in Bangkok, most of my time was spent around the Grand Palace, the focal point for the public mourning. Every evening saw thousands lining the streets to mourn and watch proceedings from the roadside and nearby park. Free water, food, posters and candles were handed out by volunteers, with one tent hurriedly making and distributing free black ribbons for the public. After the dignitaries and Royals had left for the evening, the mourners were allowed to approach the walls to lay floral tributes and light candles.
The first time this happened, I was caught rather off-guard as I had returned to my hotel, having watched large sections of the crowd leaving after 7pm. As I settled into bed and switched off my light after midnight, my phone pinged, with a photo from the local fixer, showing the candlelit vigil taking place against the walls. A manic rush back across the City saw me arriving just as flashes of lightning started to illuminate the night sky above the Grand Palace. Taking advantage of the VR in the new AF-S NIKKOR 24-70mm f/2.8E ED VR lens, I was able to shoot at low speeds without a tripod, catching a number of flashes. After getting one particularly big flash, a group nearby asked to see the frame. Showing them, two of the men hugged me, thanking me for letting them see "God". I can't say that happens very often in London.
Since the first announcement, the famous red light district had remained silent with the neon lights turned off and the alleys and streets empty. It would be a number of days before the sex workers returned, and even then, only dancing in black outfits.
By the time I decided to head back to the UK, the country was moving into the next stage of the grieving process, returning to work in a sea of black and white sombre clothing, while the touts and stall holder pushed through their mass-produced souvenirs and tribute items. Exploring an area north of the centre, I found a street of workshops where screen-printed shirts were flying off the production line at a rapid speed. Through every window that I looked, sewing machines chattered and sacks of shirts piled up, all under the ever-watchful eye of the obligatory portrait of the late King.
On my final evening in Bangkok, a walk around the market stalls and vendors near the Palace showed that the tribute wares were beginning to hit the streets. Alongside the shirts, a huge range of decidedly stylish retro prints of the King in his various "phases" were available, ranging from his period as a monk, through to his love of photography, passion for the saxophone and everything in between. He certainly had quite a list of hobbies under his belt.
No date has yet been set for the funeral but a period of at least a year is the assumed length of time before I hope to return to witness the next phase of Thailand's story.
