📖 Weekend reads from Southeast Asia

Americans love to criticize the Germans and the French for failing to do enough to come to terms with what their fathers and mothers did in the second world war. But in our usual myopic fashion, we have done almost nothing to come to terms with our own disastrous war, except to build a brilliant monument in Washington where Robert McNamara often retreated, late at night, to revisit his personal pain in silence.

According to lore and to interviews conducted by tattoo anthropologist Dr. Lars Krutak, Whang- Od was 16 when she began her career as a tattooist under her father’s mentorship. The first and only female mambabatok of her time, Whang-Od would travel to far and neighboring villages, summoned by host communities to imprint the sacred symbols of their ancestors on individuals who have crossed or about to cross a threshold in their lives. 

“I love her vision, determination and sweet personality,” said Mayures Kotchompoo, a 62-year-old longtime supporter of the Shinawatras who brought red roses to a recent rally in northeastern Thailalnd. “Everything she’s seen happen to her father and her aunt have molded her into a strong woman.” 

On Dec. 24, 2021, fear spread among the villagers of Mo So as they prepared for Christmas, the year's most festive celebration for the largely Christian Karenni. Then the sound of gunfire swirled around them. More than 40 men, women and children were tortured and shot, with many corpses burned beyond recognition.

The atrocity, known as the Christmas Eve massacre, was perpetrated by soldiers of Myanmar's 108th Light Infantry Battalion. But it is only one of hundreds of acts of brutality against the Karenni.

For the past few weeks, Thommamoon Khowasat has painstakingly explained to his four year-old daughter that the yellow cloud they see outside their window - which has tickled her imagination - is actually a danger to her health.

Some of the shophouses are perfectly restored plaster cornices gleaming with fresh pink, baby blue or buttercup yellow paint. But this is no movie set: The neighbor of the hidden door that leads to a nightclub might be a garage resounding with the clang of tools being dropped and car bodies being hammered. For all its hidden charms, George Town is still noisily alive.

"When you're a teenager, it's a different kind of fan-girling, right? It's more about, he's so handsome. He dances so well. There's a different appreciation," she explains. "When you're a bit older, you see other things. Like, we focus more on their relationships with each other and the way they convey their messages."

Mr. Yang and his wife, Lai Pen-mei, had been running a cooking-oil company for more than a decade, selling peanut and sesame oil to restaurants and hotels. When orders started to decline, a friend suggested that the Yangs start making dim sum, with a focus on Shanghai cuisine since it was already popular in Taipei.

Partnering with his wife and two hired chefs, Mr. Yang began selling noodles and delicate, handmade soup dumplings from his company’s narrow building on Xinyi Road. He and his family grew the restaurant from four tables to more than 250 seats, establishing Din Tai Fung as one of Taiwan’s most popular dining destinations — even as a signboard near the entrance, an out-of-date relic from the business’s early years, continued to identify the storefront as an oil shop.