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2025
November Newsletter
Hello dear friends,
The rain has finally stopped, leaving behind a silence heavy with mud and broken things. Across the South, people are busy cleaning their homes, counting what they lost, and in some places, counting the dead.
The sun has returned, but the land still looks bruised. And yet, among the wreckage, there are stories of kindness and courage that keep reminding us how much strength lives quietly in ordinary people.
I want to share a few of those stories with you.
1.When the Rain
Speaks
This November, the South of Thailand spoke through rain. For days, it poured without stopping. Rivers rose over their banks, roads disappeared, and neighborhoods filled with water. Hat Yai recorded more than three hundred millimeters of rain in just one day, the highest in years.
It hurts to see how much water can take in a few hours. One moment, life is ordinary. Children go to school, parents cook lunch, and the air smells of rain. Then everything changes.
A friend told me about a family who lives not far from the Hat Yai airport. He and his wife and two children ran out of clean water quickly after the tank downstairs was swept away. They could not flush the toilet for days. The children’s small fish died in the muddy water. They still had some drinking water, which made them luckier than many others, but their normal days disappeared overnight.
Across the province, others were not as fortunate. Roads were impassable. Food ran out. People trapped inside their homes waited helplessly for help that could not reach them.
One story I cannot forget is of a daughter in Hat Yai’s Ban Pru area. She lived with her elderly mother in a small house in The Rich Village. The flood came in the middle of the night. The water rose almost to the roof. The daughter tried to hold her mother above it, but the current was too strong. Her mother, around eighty years old, drowned before rescue could arrive.
In the dark floodwater, the daughter did the only thing she could. She placed her mother’s body inside a refrigerator so it would not be carried away. When the rescue team found her the next day, she was still clinging to that floating refrigerator, exhausted and trembling. Once they brought her to dry ground, she collapsed in tears, unable to speak.
That story broke the nation’s heart. And it reminded me that floods are not just about water rising. They are about lives turned upside down, ordinary families caught in extraordinary moments of loss, holding on to whatever they can, waiting for the storm to stop.
The same water that floods our homes is the water that fills our wells and nourishes our rice. Nature does not choose sides. She gives and takes in the same breath.
2.What Fairness Means
In the middle of the flood, I saw fairness and kindness appear like small lights in the dark. A friend in Songkhla went to the mosque to cook meals for families in Hat Yai who were trapped by the water. Between cooking pots, she still found time to feed the stray cats waiting by the temple fence. She called her friends across Thailand to ask if they were safe, and her friends from Italy and Germany called her too, just to ask, are you alright.
The flood revealed not only destruction but also the quiet strength of people who show up for one another. It reminded me that fairness is not about everyone doing the same thing. It is about everyone doing what they can. Some cooked. Some called. Some gave. Some listened. And in all of it, we were reminded that we are held together by care.
3.Making Charcoal Between Storms
This month has been full of rain, the kind that keeps the fields soaked and the air cool. But on the rare dry days, when the clouds finally lift, we begin making charcoal again in Wang Wiset.
We walk through the nearby rubber plantations and gather fallen branches, never cutting what still lives. We stack the wood carefully in the barrels and let it burn slowly. The smoke rises through the trees, light and earthy, carrying the scent of rain and soil.
Later, we use the charcoal in our water filter. It makes the water clearer and smoother to drink. The wood that once gave shade now gives clean water. Nothing is wasted.
On the days when the ground stays dry long enough, we also char the planks for our floors. The fire hardens the surface and protects it from insects. When I run my hand across the darkened wood, it feels stronger somehow, as if it remembers the heat that shaped it.
The hard things we go through can change us too. They leave marks, but they also make us last.
4.The Fence Beside the Bamboo
We built a fence this month for our geese, ducks, and wild chickens. The goal was simple, to keep them from covering the floors with their footprints and surprises. We cut bamboo from the back of the farm, split it, and wove it together with palm leaves. It cost nothing but time and laughter.
By sunset, we were covered in dust and mosquito bites, but the fence stood strong. It was not perfect, but it was ours. And when I saw the animals walking inside it, calm and curious, I felt the quiet happiness that comes when human hands and the land work together.
Right beside the fence grows a stand of bamboo. Its leaves move with every breeze, soft as a lullaby. The light passes through them in shifting shades of green and gold. The birds come every morning. The chickens rest in its shade. And I sit there, listening, thinking, this is enough.
Bamboo has become my quiet teacher. It grows fast, bends easily, and stands still even in the storm. It does not demand attention or compete for space. It just grows, offering shade, shelter, and air. Watching it, I understand what strength really means.
We did not buy anything new. We just used what was already here. And somehow, that felt richer than anything money could give.
5.Green Lesson: The Generous Leaf
Every month, we learn something new from the plants that live closest to us. This time, it is Hu Suea, also called Mexican mint or tiger’s ears. It grows easily beside our kitchen, soft and thick and smelling a little like oregano.
It is one of those plants that always seems ready to help. The leaves can calm coughs, help digestion, and soothe mosquito bites. My favorite way to use it is to crush the leaves and mix them with freshly squeezed pineapple juice. The taste is green and bright and full of life.
It reminds me that medicine often grows quietly beside us. The land keeps offering. We just have to notice.
6. A Gathering in Bangkok for the Children’s Future
In November I traveled to Bangkok to join a national workshop at Prince Palace Hotel, organized by the Ministry of Social Development and Human Security. More than 900 participants attended — provincial officials from across Thailand, social development officers, teachers, educators, NGO representatives, and staff from emergency homes and schools for children.
The workshop, titled “โครงการประชุมเชิงปฏิบัติงานพัฒนาศักยภาพผู้ปฏิบัติงาน” (Capacity Building Workshop for Social Development Practitioners), aimed to strengthen collaboration and skills among those working to protect and support vulnerable groups, especially children. But we also know that children are never alone. Behind every child stands a parent, a guardian, or a family that must be part of the same circle of care. Building networks of trust and understanding among families, teachers, and social workers is the only way to truly help children thrive.
Throughout the sessions, I listened to stories from every region — of local shelters doing their best with limited resources, of teachers finding ways to support students from difficult backgrounds, and of communities working together to prevent neglect before it begins. Each story carried the same hope: that every child, wherever they are born, should grow up safe, valued, and loved.
When it was my turn to share, I spoke about the children at Lorliang Cheewa. How they learn English through play, find peace in nature, and grow up with lessons in kindness and mindfulness. I talked about our belief that healing a community begins with caring for its youngest members. Many people nodded, and I felt that even though we come from different places, our work is deeply connected.
I left Bangkok feeling grateful and inspired. This gathering reminded me that what we do in our small village is part of a much larger effort, one that reaches across the country and unites those who choose to nurture life, protect the vulnerable, and believe in the potential of every child.
7.What the Land Teaches
After returning from Bangkok, the city lights still shimmered in my thoughts. But when I stepped onto the red earth of Wang Wiset, the air softened. The smell of wet soil and smoke from charcoal greeted me like an old friend. The ducks quacked, the bamboo rustled, and I knew I was home.
The trip reminded me of something simple. Change may begin in meeting rooms and ministries, but it must take root in the ground beneath our feet. The real work happens here, in classrooms where children learn to listen, in homes where families rebuild trust, and in fields where small acts of care shape tomorrow’s harvest.
I often think about how every policy, every discussion, must one day find its way back to the people. The land teaches us that. Seeds cannot grow in air; they need soil. Likewise, ideas only matter when they touch real lives.
As I walked through the garden that evening, the rain clouds were clearing. The pond reflected the sky, and the geese were calling each other home. I thought, maybe this is what progress really looks like small, steady, alive.
Thank you for walking this month’s path with us.
May the coming days bring calm skies, full ponds, and strong roots.
Warmly,
Tik and Nate and the Lorliang Cheewa Foundation Family
Final Thoughts (Like a Nap After a Big Lunch)
Thanks for reading.We’re building this foundation like we cook Southern Thai curry, slowly, with care, and always better with friends.
If you want to help:
Say hi.
Send snacks.
Spread the word.
Come visit.
Or just keep reading these strange and wonderful updates.
Because when a child knows you believe in them, the real story begins.
With gratitude and hope, Nate &Tik
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For More Information
Contact Pornwara@lorliangcheewa.org
+66.64.859.1520