Actual Mission Stories: White Suit

White Suit

Location: Bangkok, Thailand

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Date: April 1970 (Story by Duane R. Hurst, © October 1973)

[NOTE: This story is based on actual events, but I changed the names of other people involved.]

      Elder Lyle and I jumped out of a battered 54 bus as it careened around a dusty corner in Huai Khwang. We both landed with practiced ease, having ridden the red 54's, yellow 12's and green 53's for the past few months in Bangkok's east side. Huai Khwang was one of the poorer districts in our tracting area. However, it contained a wealth of friendly people who often invited us into their homes.

      On this particular occasion a few curious flies buzzed over from the open garbage pit (adjacent a sprawling market) to check us out, but they soon lost interest in us and flew off in search of more succulent food. The day was a scorcher and we were parched. It definitely was time to locate a "pop stop."

      We trudged along the paved main street amidst swirls of dry dust and acrid diesel exhaust. We stopped at "The Pit Stop"--a name I gave to our favorite shop in the Huai Khwang area. I felt better after guzzling a large Seven-up and a Green Spot orange.

      Elder Lyle, my senior companion, decided to tract a narrow lane we never had entered. I admit that the idea sounded great to me; I always enjoyed seeing new areas. The lane was well shaded, which heightened my interest in trying our luck there. We knocked on several gates without rousing anyone. The next gate was given to me.

      I knocked loudly on the wood with a "baht" coin and yelled a polite greeting. A moment later the gate swung open to reveal a short, chubby man who wore a tee-shirt and flowing Chinese style pants. I guessed his age at 40-45. His black hair was receding. His smile was even broader than the normally genial Thai manner. He invited us in without a moment's hesitation.

      His nickname set me back and I tried not to laugh. It was Sadoe--navel. So, we began teaching Brother Belly Button about Joseph Smith.

      Brother Sadoe certainly was easy to teach. He was eager to learn and invited us to visit him three times each week. Elder Lyle and I were elated to have our first "golden contact" in months. During subsequent discussions at his home, he always greeted us warmly and even agreed to consider baptism.

      As was generally a test to determine good investigators, we invited Brother Sadoe to attend church services. He promised to go but never showed up the following Sunday. Of course he had a plausible excuse--some of the excuses I heard during my 22 months in Thailand ought to be enshrined in Ripley's Believe It or Not. Again he promised to see us at church. We offered to meet at his house and accompany him on Sunday, but he assured us that he would go.

      The big day arrived. I was outside the building greeting investigators and members with several other Elders. Time was running short and once more it looked like Brother Sadoe would skip. I had just gone inside when a grinning Elder called me. He said, "Hey, Elder Hurst, there's a Brother Belly Button outside looking for you. Just wait till you see his outfit."

      Of course I couldn't wait. I stepped out the door and blinked. My eyes and those of everyone else were dazzled. Brother Sadoe wore one of the most brilliantly white jungle safari suits in existence, complete with a gleaming white pith helmet. He also carried a swagger stick similar to those British officers used in colonial days. He looked like a supporting actor in the Bob Hope/Bing Crosby "Road to Zanzibar" movie.

      Members and missionaries alike welcomed Brother Sadoe. He beamed and spoke with everyone. He hadn't just come to church; he made an entrance.

      The following Tuesday Elder Lyle and I anticipated another good discussion with Brother Sadoe. To my surprise he didn't meet us at the gate. His older sister greeted us instead. She told us that he had moved across the river to Thonburi and would not be back again. Elder Lyle and I exchanged knowing looks--it was a familiar excuse which meant the investigator didn't want to see us again, but also didn't want any of us to feel the pain of hearing the truth. Just as the sister was closing the gate with a relieved smile, I spotted our newly-moved investigator peeping out a window.

      About a week later while riding a green 53 bus on Huai Khwang's main street I managed to catch a glimpse of a white pith helmet bobbing in a throng of Thai shoppers. Sure enough, the man inside that brilliant, white safari suit was our own Brother Belly Button. I waved but he somehow wasn't able to see me. At least, I thought with serious reflection, it was good to know that the population of Bangkok would not be seriously depleted by ex-investigators who moved lemming-like to sanctuary across the river in Thonburi.