FORMER THAI SOLDIER LEADS 'LITTLE BUDDHAS'

Boxing Monk, Youths Join in Anti-Drug Effort

GOLDEN HORSE MONAS-TERY, Thailand - He was a soldier and champion boxer,
but now the burly abbot leads a band of "Little Buddhas," some as young as
7, who practice martial arts and meditation, then ride into the mountains
to fight the scourge of drugs.

There are nearly 33,000 Buddhist monasteries in Thailand but not many like
this remote retreat set in limestone crags and bamboo thickets in the
country's northern sector.

Most of the country's sanctuaries are defined by a languid atmosphere and
little physical exertion by the clergy. The Golden Horse Monastery resounds
with the neighing of some 100 horses, the thwack of body punches and the
barking of orders at ranks of disciplined youngsters.

"Before I was just a soldier of Thailand. Now I am a soldier of the Lord of
all the world's people. Now, I fight against lies, theft, hate and
violence," says Abbot Kru Ba Nua Chai, seated in a simple hall stacked with
religious icons.

Army of former addicts, orphans

His little army consists of the sons of impoverished hill tribe families,
most of them orphans, some former drug addicts. Its mission, Kru Ba says,
is to spread the Buddha's teachings and combat widespread drug abuse among
tribal people in an area where narcotics are as common as cold pills.

The 40-year-old monk, accompanied by some of the novices, spends about half
of each month trekking through the rugged region along the Myanmar border
in the northern province of Chiang Rai. They ride horses, which fare better
than vehicles, especially during the monsoon rains.

"We don't like to mix with city people," Kru Ba says, his forceful voice
accompanied by the tinkling of temple wind-chimes. "There are some good
people in the cities but they are hard to find. People in the hills have a
great sense of honesty."

Their day begins at 1 a.m.

It's from the hill peoples - the Akha, Lahu, Hmong, Lisu, Shan and others -
that he draws his recruits, from villages without schools but with grim
futures as a burgeoning population faces shrinking farmland, ravaged
forests and infertile soil.

"We don't speak all their languages but we can speak the language of the
heart," Kru Ba says.

Some ethnic Thais also come, like Manop Indhamot, 31, who says he had been
a drug addict from his youth until two years ago, when his parents brought
him to the monastery with its mix of rural peace and regimentation.

Wake-up call is at 1 a.m. followed by meditation, religious teaching and
the chanting of prayers until dawn. Then, standing in military formation,
the novices - there are currently 17 - count off before calisthenics and
immersion in a pool of frigid mountain water for more meditation. There are
periodic fasts, lasting up to three days.

Days are spent cleaning the monastery grounds, cooking and caring for
horses and ponies, which the novices gallop, their loose yellow robes flapping.

Thai-style boxing is practiced every evening and Kru Ba, tucking his robes
between his legs to reveal a powerful, densely tattooed torso, happily
demonstrates techniques. Using knees, elbows, feet and fists, the monk
shows how he could disable his young sparring partner if he applied real force.

Such behavior ordinarily would be considered unmonkly, but instilling
discipline and mastering self-defense are needed for the ventures into
lawless border areas, Kru Ba says. Thai boxing is also one of the few
escapes out of rural poverty for skilled boys.

Kru Ba, who spent five years in the army, fought his last bout in 1991 -
"Never got knocked out," he proudly notes. A year later he left his wife
and two children to meditate alone in the forest and establish the monastery.

Thai Buddhism has suffered from rogue monks and others who have stretched
the Buddha's teachings beyond all bounds. \

But Kru Ba's credentials are solid: The monastery is in part supported by
the office of the Supreme Patriarch, the country's Buddhist leader.

Manop, the former drug addict, escorts a visitor to a hilltop cave. "It is
so peaceful here," he says. "I never want to go back to where I came from."