Diary of a farang in Isaan

[Orton Rd]

21 hours ago, sunnyboy2018 said:

There is no resemblance between the writings of the OP and Bernard Trink.

No, more like Grahame Briar, but without the begging.

[Destiny1990]

Gosh your neighbor killing your dog because it killed one of his chickens. Clearly you have found ur paradise!

[owl sees all]

2 minutes ago, Destiny1990 said:

Gosh your neighbor killing your dog because it killed one of his chickens. Clearly you have found ur paradise!

He told Mrs Owl that it was put down humanely. 

[EVENKEEL]

Just now, owl sees all said:

He told Mrs Owl that it was put down humanely. 

Get out of here, the way dogs are treated on a daily basics takes awhile to get used to. Perhaps you were being sarcastic...…??

[owl sees all]

2 hours ago, Bredbury Blue said:

Very enjoyable Owl, keep it going. 

 

Lots more pics please (avoid adding personal pics of you/family as there'll always be someone with rude comments).

 

Incidentally which province are you in exactly (apologies if you already stated). Assuming it's Nong Khai.

Although I'm closer to Nong Khai, the village is in Udon Thani province.

[sirineou]

1 minute ago, EVENKEEL said:

Get out of here, the way dogs are treated on a daily basics takes awhile to get used to. Perhaps you were being sarcastic...…??

They are treated horribly.

[Destiny1990]

9 minutes ago, owl sees all said:

He told Mrs Owl that it was put down humanely. 

With dog killing neighbors like yours there’s no need for enemies!

 

[finnishmen]

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

[roo860]

3 minutes ago, finnishmen said:

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

Bloody hell, if that's what it does to you, I'll stay away!!

????????????

[owl sees all]

4 minutes ago, finnishmen said:

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

I think it's true to say that your stay in Isaan has been frustrating.

[EVENKEEL]

19 minutes ago, sirineou said:

They are treated horribly.

Life for the dogs outside your palace walls are a bit different.

[sirineou]

2 minutes ago, owl sees all said:

9 minutes ago, finnishmen said:

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

I think it's true to say that your stay in Isaan has been frustrating.

Especially since he's being hanging out with monkeys, next time he should try hanging out with people he might find it more enjoyable. 

[bluesofa]

10 minutes ago, roo860 said:

14 minutes ago, finnishmen said:

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

Bloody hell, if that's what it does to you, I'll stay away!!

????????

Stay away? Looks like I'd better leave tomorrow after living here for thirteen years!

[Destiny1990]

15 minutes ago, finnishmen said:

isaan have at foreign, <deleted> place live. i has living 4 year now and newer before no has eat thats same bad, all food have tottally big <deleted>, isan food not have thai food and normal. all have big <deleted> and human no can eat, only thai monkeys idiot eat eweryday <deleted> grass,<deleted> wery bad fish,all food could or raw,or half-raw, all food wery bad taste. normal thai food have 500 x better south than isan food have ewer. all peoples have idiots or little stupid, and IF borrow somethink newer not go back or go back broken. has destroy my hammer drill 2 pcs, now, hammer drill not have cheap 8000 B pcs and has borrow and destroy 2 pcs, and no tell me has broken, same many toold,ladders no newer go back to home if someone has borrow, expensives good guality ladders cost 5000 B but i no can use because have somewere at village. same many many tools and others parts, monkeys idiots no newer pay back or give me back my tools. i no borrow anythink now to monkeys idiots. womans not care husband, o matter what husband say wifes no hear husband newer, if need help somethink newer not help .

Did the monkeys kill your dog already?

[emptypockets]

On 11/18/2019 at 11:47 AM, owl sees all said:

Just came in from paying respects to a deceased lady; just 4 huts away. She died yesterday aged 97. The household was very generous with the food and drink as per usual. Served all sorts of dishes. I was happy with the pla nin. Although one of the larger ones looked familiar.  Didn't participate with the alcohol as I've got to drive to Nong Khai later. Wife is still there though; scurrying about.

 

I've been considering giving some of my Mekong catfish to the local temple. They have grown well; in fact very well. The biggest two are over 1.4 metres long and all over one metre. I have 19, and they dominate the other fish at feeding time. If I could get some muscle on the job, for the catching, I reckon I could donate 9. 

 

I did have some feeding posts, that just needed old fruit and veg' to get maggots for free. I'm thinking of putting in a few to cut down on the cost of feed. When I do eventually stock with fingerlings, I'll put the automated feeding stations in all ponds.

 

The big mekongs are in pond #5 (from the left).

 

 

The lady next to us didn't plant rice this year. She planted rosella. I knew it as sorrel in the Caribbean. Very nice drink. She is harvesting at the moment and is getting 100 baht a kilo for dry. Interesting!

Missus is getting 150 baht a kilo for grasshoppers at the moment.

[Matzzon]

Really good and enjoying stories. Thank you!

[roo860]

24 minutes ago, emptypockets said:

Missus is getting 150 baht a kilo for grasshoppers at the moment.

I'll try growing some of them.

[Oxpilot]

You are planting avocados from seeds? I have heard that they will not bear fruiot when planted from seeds. It didn't make sense at the time.

[SteveK]

1 hour ago, Oxpilot said:

You are planting avocados from seeds? I have heard that they will not bear fruiot when planted from seeds. It didn't make sense at the time. 

Well the seeds for my potato tree didn't work either. Must be something to do with Thai soil. 555.

Edited November 19, 2019 by SteveK

[bannork]

This story starts 22 years ago.

 

I first met my future wife, Dee, when she was selling papaya salad (somtam in Thai) on a street stall in Nong Khai. I was forty one and tired of the single life I had been living in Thailand. I couldn’t connect anymore with the young Western travellers I met. I had already done or already heard of all the things they were enthusing about, and the music they played just sounded like noise to me. It was time to settle down, get a wife and kids. I was ready.

But I knew it would be highly irresponsible at my age to start a family of my own in Thailand. I couldn’t offer any security to a young wife. I didn’t even have a work permit. I was well on my way to getting one, studying for the necessary bachelor degree at university, but I wasn’t there yet. So my status in Thailand was tenuous. All it needed was the dreaded red ink in the passport after a tourist visa application - Evidence of funds to be shown next time - and I would be in trouble. My funds were all coming from a source I could not reveal, teaching. So I started to think about marrying someone who already had children. Someone mature but still young at heart. I knew there were plenty of families struggling without a father and his income. I could kill two birds with one stone. I could find domestic bliss and also feel good at helping others. And if the worst came to the worst and I couldn’t get a work permit, well perhaps I could obtain a marriage visa.

Dee’s somtam was good, she looked good. A full set of gleaming white teeth that truly shone against her tanned skin when she laughed. With her thick, long wavy hair I guessed she was in her early thirties. Spending some free time from school in Bangkok I had gone to Nong Khai, one of my favourite stomping grounds. I started to time my days to pass by her stall at lunchtime. One day I sat down as usual at an empty table with my walkman. Dee sauntered over, grinning. She bent down and picked up the headphones. I turned on the music. A few seconds later she leapt up.

‘Morlam toei!’ she exclaimed,‘farang chorp morlam!’ (The Westerner likes morlam).

It was true. I loved Issan music, especially morlam toei, a style with a rocking bass that drives the song along as the singer fills the musical gaps with call and response phrases. Thai gospel as it were, feet tapping, hand clapping stuff.

I laughed and rocked on the chair, ludicrously attempting to sing along with the words.

Dee went back to her stall and looked over at me as she pounded the chillies in the pestle with the mortar. Two chillies were enough for me, enough to add a zing to the papaya but not too many to set one’s tongue ablaze in a fiery fury. When she brought the papaya, fried chicken and sticky rice over, she sat down opposite me instead of walking back to the stall as she usually did.

She couldn’t speak any English to speak of and I was glad. We were in Thailand, in Issan, a land I had grown to love with its thousands of fields and tall wild almond trees, and with a people generous in spirit, laughter never far from their lips. My Thai language skills were reasonable by this stage. I could hold conversations for quite some time and I could read and write Thai; after all I had spent ten years in the country on and off, continuously for the last five. I soon learnt that Dee had three children, all girls, who were living with her sister, eighty miles south-east of Nong Khai.

Our conversation soon took the familiar route. I began it.

‘So what happened to the girls’ father?’

I got the standard answer. ‘He was lazy. He wouldn’t give me enough money for the children, always going out drinking with his workmates at the electrical company.’

I had heard this story too often to disbelieve it but I still couldn’t comprehend how a man could simply ignore his own kid(s). How could he do it? I knew there was no social security in Thailand. Back in the UK things were different. There was welfare, the state supporting mothers’ fatherless kids. I remembered a friend from Bristol laughing, recounting her story of the state official trying to establish the identity of her daughter.

‘Try to remember dear, surely you can recall his face and name?’

‘No, you see, I had too much to drink that night and I never saw him again,’ my friend had replied, trying to suppress her giggles.

All nonsense of course, but she was sitting financially comfortable, claiming her child benefit and working on the side.

But here in Thailand there was nothing, no state assistance whatsoever, so a young mother with kids and a useless husband had to find work herself. What could she do with her kids? The best and most convenient thing was to leave them with relatives in her hometown and remit money every month from wherever the mother was working. Thus countless numbers of rural children grew up with their aunts, uncles and grandparents.

It turned out Dee’s three girls were ten year old twins and a four year old. She showed me their photos, standing in the rice fields, shielding their eyes from the sun as they gazed up at the camera.

‘Did they help you harvest the rice?’ I asked.

‘Only Toei,’ she answered, ‘she wants to be a boy. She loves tractors.’

‘Toei!’ I laughed, ‘the same name as morlam toei.’

Dee laughed back. ‘Yes, she’s so different to her sister June. Hard to believe they are twins. Do you like children?’

‘Oh yes…’ My answer trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dee it had crossed my mind I wanted to adopt an instant family. It was far too early for that.

‘Well, why don’t you come and see mine? My home is only an hour and a half away by bus.’ She spoke quietly. It seemed she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

‘Okay! When is the best day?’ I answered exuberantly and loudly to her displeasure.

We got off the bus at a T-junction and an awaiting skylab, the motorised three- wheeler taxi, took us the three kilometres to Dee’s village. The driver sped along, skilfully negotiating his way around potholes and ruts, zigzagging down the almost deserted tarmac road in the early morning breeze.

‘Landfill trucks,’ said Dee. ‘The drivers are not the owners so they don’t care and drive their trucks roughshod through the holes, making them deeper. Damn them.’

We pulled up at a wooden house on concrete posts. There was an upper floor and a downstairs room made of concrete blocks to the back of the house. Stairs led upwards whilst under the house various farming appliances were stacked on the ground. There was a plough, some fishing nets and traps. To the side was a kitchen ringed by a low wall consisting of concrete breeze blocks. Like the back room, these hadn’t been plastered over.

‘Mother! You didn’t say you were coming!’

A girl ran out to embrace Dee. I guessed it was June.

‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Dee laughed, hugging her tight.

June looked up at me, wide- eyed, staring. In the background I could see what looked like a boy pacing up and down, flicking a stick at bushes and the ground. He kept his head down, occasionally quickly looking up at us before continuing his solitary patrol.

‘Toei! Come here! I want you to meet loong (uncle) Jeff,’ Dee called out.

‘Toei, glad to meet you, how old are you?’ I was hoping once she realized I could speak Thai she would feel less afraid of me.

Toei raised her head. ‘I’m ten. Loong, can you swim? There is a pond nearby, we could catch some fish.’

Dee laughed. ‘She’s a real outdoor girl, Jeff. Come on and meet Met and her family before you go off swimming.’

A woman in her early thirties holding a young child on her waist stepped forward.

‘This is Met, my sister,’ Dee introduced her.

‘Ah, the lady looking after your three children,’ I turned to Dee.

‘Not only that,’ Dee was laughing. ‘She has three daughters of her own.’

‘What!’ I exclaimed. ‘She’s looking after six children?’

At that moment three teenage girls slowly descended the wooden staircase.

They politely greeted me, waiing me in greeting as Met reeled off her daughters’ names.

Muay, Dao Huay and Ning.

I would never remember all these names.

‘And who is this?’ I asked Dee, pointing to the girl on Met’s waist.

‘Fah! Come here.’ Dee held out her arms. So this was her youngest.

But Fah wouldn’t budge. Who was this unfamiliar man with Dee, and who was Dee, come to that? Just some woman who sometimes visited Met’s house, Met was her real mum.

Met looked apologetic, ‘Our home is poor as you can see.’

It was hard to deny, the low wall around the outdoor kitchen needed plastering. Yet the children all looked well and were wearing decent clothes. Met herself looked the picture of health.

‘So where is Prom, Met’s husband?’ I asked Dee.

‘He’s gone to see his fish traps, he should be back soon,’ she replied.

We sat down on mats on the kitchen floor and ate breakfast, larb (minced pork with garlic) and sticky rice.

Met and Dee chatted away, catching up on local news. Soon neighbours appeared, joining in the conversation. Dee was obviously a popular figure in the village. I was of interest for a few minutes, a Westerner who could speak some Thai and a possible new beau of Dee. But once it was clear my ability in the Issan dialect was limited, my novelty wore off and it was time for the neighbours to move on to something else of interest. I could see Toei looking restless.

‘Dee, where is this pond? Could Toei and I walk there?’ I enquired.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘We’ll borrow a couple of motorbikes. It’s on Met’s farmland next to mine.’

It was one and a half kilometres away.

‘That’s my land,’ Dee pointed to the adjoining rice fields.

‘So did you get a good harvest this year?’ I asked.

‘No, I mortgaged the land to help pay for the kids’ living expenses,’ was her reply.

‘What! How much?’ I knew the step from a mortgage to a sale was often not far.

‘Seven thousand baht,’ she answered.

That was about two hundred pounds at the time.

 ‘I’ll pay that off and next rainy season you can keep the rice yourself,’ I volunteered. I just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone losing their land

Dee smiled, ‘really?’

‘Loong! Come on, let’s find some fish.’ Toei couldn’t wait.

I clambered down the slopes of the pond. You had to be careful. It was painful to walk in bare feet on the laterite rocks.

Toei and June swam in the Thai doggy style. They could swim but it looked like hard work. I showed them some breaststroke and gentle crawl. Toei was particularly fearless, jumping off the rocks into the water. Dee sat in the small hut next to the pond watching us.

‘We will never catch fish like this,’ I shouted to Toei. ‘We’ll scare them all away.’

She didn’t care. She was having too much fun swimming and jumping in the water.

‘I’ll come back later with some bait and Por (Dad) Prom,’ she shouted back.

‘Just how many dads can a kid have in Thailand?’ I wondered.

Back in the village later on, Fah was getting used to her biological mum, Dee. She allowed Dee to pick her up and walk with her, holding her hand.

It was touching, moving and sad at the same time, a child and mother trying to get used to each other.

After swimming we hired a skylab and went to the local town to buy the night’s dinner and some clothes for the girls. It was fun to watch the twins swinging on each arm of Dee as they strolled and skipped down the street, picking out shirts, dresses and shorts from the pavement stalls.

‘Come on Toei, look here’s a lovely dress. The colour you love too, dark blue.’

Dee was trying her best to turn Toei into a girl but I could see it was a daunting task. Even the pace she walked at, striding forward, was not a Thai girl’s style.

I laughed, ‘Come on Toei; let’s find some jeans for you.’

In contrast, June had no problem picking out matching skirts and tops. Holding them up to the air, checking the quality of the material, she clearly had her own idea of dress sense. She had an infectious laugh and a hilarious way of arching her eyebrows and twisting her mouth indicating someone (usually Toei but sometimes Dee) had just said something she considered absurd.

After dinner she sat down beside me and pulled her English schoolbook out of her bag. The paper was thin, ‘cheap skates in the Ministry,’ I thought. But still she was only ten, and at least she was learning some English. There was a picture of a cat.

‘Cat,’ I said.

She looked at me, ‘Cairt,’ she replied in her soft, feminine voice.

I let it go, she turned the page back. To my surprise I noticed she had two thumbs on her right hand. The second one wasn’t parallel to the first though. Rather it was bent at right angles.

‘Bat,’ I continued.

‘Bairt,’ she answered more determinedly this time.

‘Loong, why do you say bat? The book says bairt.’

I looked at the book more closely. There were Thai transliterations of the English words in the book and then I realised why she was pronouncing the words differently to my standard middle class UK accent. The book was using the Thai vowel which produces the ‘air’ sound rather than the ‘a’ sound. Oh well, the Thai kids would all sound like Australians when they spoke English: ‘g’day oim from Thailand.’ Why not? Thailand was nearer to Australia than to the UK.

We continued with the book for a few more minutes and then June abruptly shut it and stood up.

‘Loong, would you like to see some photos?’ She looked at me, grinning. She was enjoying playing host.

‘Sure,’ I answered. She ran upstairs and came back with another book. Opening it up, four or five photos fell out. They were of herself and her classmates. They were all dressed up in Thai traditional dance costumes, performing in front of some adults. It was impossible for me to guess which one was June. They all looked angelic with their face powder, charcoal black eyebrows and hair pulled up. Their costumes glittered in the photos.

She stabbed at one of the girls in the photos. ‘That’s me.’ Holding up her hand with the double thumb, she wrinkled her nose. ‘Not beautiful,’ she said sadly.

‘Don’t worry June, no one will notice from ten metres away. You look just as beautiful as the other dancers.’ I tried to console her. ‘And anyway, with that hand you could play the piano very well.’

This time I got the arched eyebrows and screwed up mouth treatment. I laughed. We sat there in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly she blurted out, ‘Is loong going to stay with us? If loong stays, I will clean the house every day. I’m good at washing clothes too, and I can iron.’

‘And we can go shopping for clothes every weekend in town,’ I added teasingly.

‘No loong. That would be too expensive, once a month is enough.’

I had to laugh again. This kid had some firm ideas.

‘Well that sounds great,’ I answered. ‘But first I have to go back to work in Bangkok. But let’s see what we can do about next year.’

She looked up at me. ‘Goodnight loong,’ she said in English and promptly disappeared beneath the mosquito net snuggling up to her sister and Dee.

The next morning Toei, June and I piled onto one motorbike and cruised around the area. There was a large reservoir nearby and we stood under the overspill in our own mini waterfall.

‘Loong! Take some pictures,’ Toei yelled through the noise of the falling water.

We took photos of ourselves, laughing and drenched in our clothes. Luckily the sun was out and hot so we were half dry by the time we got back. Soon it was lunchtime and then time for Dee and I to head back to Nong Khai.

As we climbed the steps of the bus at the T junction, Dee turned round and looked down at Fah in Met’s arms.

‘Fah! Come to Nong Khai with Mum. Come on! Mum will look after you, you can live with Mum.’ She held out her arms.

But Fah wasn’t budging. Met was mum, here was home. She wasn’t going to risk going somewhere with this lady who only sometimes came to visit.

Dee sat down heavily on a seat at the back of the bus and burst into tears. It was heartrending and reminded me in one sense of my boarding school days and the wrench when you’re torn away from your warm and loving home back to the big and cold school with its forbidding teachers. Sometimes I felt it would have been better to have had no holidays or breaks at all. This was different, it was worse, but it was still that familiar pain of separation of loved ones.

The bus pulled away, leaving Toei, June and Met waving in the retreating distance. Dee sat there sobbing.

I thought for a moment. ‘Well, why don’t you sell papaya in the village or in a town nearer home?’

‘There is no money in the village, and the nearest town is too small also,’ she replied, shaking as she spoke. ‘Nong Khai is far busier. I can make enough money there to at least send some home.’

‘So why not move the kids to Nong Khai?’ I persisted.

She had obviously thought about this before.

‘I would have to rent a bigger room, maybe two rooms and I couldn’t keep an eye on the girls all the time when I’m working. And Fah is so young, who can take care of her when I’m at the stall? It’s safer for them all to stay here with Met and Prom.’ She looked wretched, looking out of the window with tears in her eyes.

I wracked my brains as the afternoon bus ambled along under the glorious old trees, sunlight flashing through their boughs and leaves. Dee wept quietly as I put my arm around her. Outside there was such beauty. Why did we have to feel so sad inside?

 

 

 

 

[bermondburi]

4 hours ago, jimn said:

Each to his own life I suppose. But living in Issan like the OP sounds like a living version of hell. I take my wife up to the village twice a year and only spend 1 night there in a hotel. I cant wait to get away from the village. If she wants to see her family more I encourage her to go alone on the bus.

Completely agree with that. My relationship with Isaan goes back 15 years to a small village in Buriram. When I first went there I absolutely hated it. Was only there because skint and wife pregnant.

 

Over time it grew on me, and getting our own house rather than staying with in laws made a big difference. But I just can't do living in each other's pockets all the time.

 

Moved to Bangkok for work after a while and then left the country 7 years ago to make some real money, which at my age is what I need to do. Visit Isaan once or twice a year maybe for a few days.

 

We have a house and land there so it's great to relax and catch up with all the family. But I just couldn't live there full time. I'd be bored out of my mind.

 

We bought another house in Pran Buri a couple  of years ago and I prefer it so much. Got the beach, nightlife, good food options, some great nature areas, whereas I found the countryside in Isaan really boring. I could go on. 

 

I often wonder how many of the foreigners really love it there. If they had the choice to do it again would they really do the land and house thing in the middle of nowhere. Not all of them surely. Or did they just cave in to wife's demands that she has to be close to family because that's what Thais do.

 

I sort of think a lot of foreigners need to be more assertive at the start. At the end of the day, in most cases, the man has the money, so he should get to live where he wants really. He's paying for it all.

 

Everyone's different, I get that but even so. 

1 hour ago, bannork said:

This story starts 22 years ago.

 

I first met my future wife, Dee, when she was selling papaya salad (somtam in Thai) on a street stall in Nong Khai. I was forty one and tired of the single life I had been living in Thailand. I couldn’t connect anymore with the young Western travellers I met. I had already done or already heard of all the things they were enthusing about, and the music they played just sounded like noise to me. It was time to settle down, get a wife and kids. I was ready.

But I knew it would be highly irresponsible at my age to start a family of my own in Thailand. I couldn’t offer any security to a young wife. I didn’t even have a work permit. I was well on my way to getting one, studying for the necessary bachelor degree at university, but I wasn’t there yet. So my status in Thailand was tenuous. All it needed was the dreaded red ink in the passport after a tourist visa application - Evidence of funds to be shown next time - and I would be in trouble. My funds were all coming from a source I could not reveal, teaching. So I started to think about marrying someone who already had children. Someone mature but still young at heart. I knew there were plenty of families struggling without a father and his income. I could kill two birds with one stone. I could find domestic bliss and also feel good at helping others. And if the worst came to the worst and I couldn’t get a work permit, well perhaps I could obtain a marriage visa.

Dee’s somtam was good, she looked good. A full set of gleaming white teeth that truly shone against her tanned skin when she laughed. With her thick, long wavy hair I guessed she was in her early thirties. Spending some free time from school in Bangkok I had gone to Nong Khai, one of my favourite stomping grounds. I started to time my days to pass by her stall at lunchtime. One day I sat down as usual at an empty table with my walkman. Dee sauntered over, grinning. She bent down and picked up the headphones. I turned on the music. A few seconds later she leapt up.

‘Morlam toei!’ she exclaimed,‘farang chorp morlam!’ (The Westerner likes morlam).

It was true. I loved Issan music, especially morlam toei, a style with a rocking bass that drives the song along as the singer fills the musical gaps with call and response phrases. Thai gospel as it were, feet tapping, hand clapping stuff.

I laughed and rocked on the chair, ludicrously attempting to sing along with the words.

Dee went back to her stall and looked over at me as she pounded the chillies in the pestle with the mortar. Two chillies were enough for me, enough to add a zing to the papaya but not too many to set one’s tongue ablaze in a fiery fury. When she brought the papaya, fried chicken and sticky rice over, she sat down opposite me instead of walking back to the stall as she usually did.

She couldn’t speak any English to speak of and I was glad. We were in Thailand, in Issan, a land I had grown to love with its thousands of fields and tall wild almond trees, and with a people generous in spirit, laughter never far from their lips. My Thai language skills were reasonable by this stage. I could hold conversations for quite some time and I could read and write Thai; after all I had spent ten years in the country on and off, continuously for the last five. I soon learnt that Dee had three children, all girls, who were living with her sister, eighty miles south-east of Nong Khai.

Our conversation soon took the familiar route. I began it.

‘So what happened to the girls’ father?’

I got the standard answer. ‘He was lazy. He wouldn’t give me enough money for the children, always going out drinking with his workmates at the electrical company.’

I had heard this story too often to disbelieve it but I still couldn’t comprehend how a man could simply ignore his own kid(s). How could he do it? I knew there was no social security in Thailand. Back in the UK things were different. There was welfare, the state supporting mothers’ fatherless kids. I remembered a friend from Bristol laughing, recounting her story of the state official trying to establish the identity of her daughter.

‘Try to remember dear, surely you can recall his face and name?’

‘No, you see, I had too much to drink that night and I never saw him again,’ my friend had replied, trying to suppress her giggles.

All nonsense of course, but she was sitting financially comfortable, claiming her child benefit and working on the side.

But here in Thailand there was nothing, no state assistance whatsoever, so a young mother with kids and a useless husband had to find work herself. What could she do with her kids? The best and most convenient thing was to leave them with relatives in her hometown and remit money every month from wherever the mother was working. Thus countless numbers of rural children grew up with their aunts, uncles and grandparents.

It turned out Dee’s three girls were ten year old twins and a four year old. She showed me their photos, standing in the rice fields, shielding their eyes from the sun as they gazed up at the camera.

‘Did they help you harvest the rice?’ I asked.

‘Only Toei,’ she answered, ‘she wants to be a boy. She loves tractors.’

‘Toei!’ I laughed, ‘the same name as morlam toei.’

Dee laughed back. ‘Yes, she’s so different to her sister June. Hard to believe they are twins. Do you like children?’

‘Oh yes…’ My answer trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dee it had crossed my mind I wanted to adopt an instant family. It was far too early for that.

‘Well, why don’t you come and see mine? My home is only an hour and a half away by bus.’ She spoke quietly. It seemed she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

‘Okay! When is the best day?’ I answered exuberantly and loudly to her displeasure.

We got off the bus at a T-junction and an awaiting skylab, the motorised three- wheeler taxi, took us the three kilometres to Dee’s village. The driver sped along, skilfully negotiating his way around potholes and ruts, zigzagging down the almost deserted tarmac road in the early morning breeze.

‘Landfill trucks,’ said Dee. ‘The drivers are not the owners so they don’t care and drive their trucks roughshod through the holes, making them deeper. Damn them.’

We pulled up at a wooden house on concrete posts. There was an upper floor and a downstairs room made of concrete blocks to the back of the house. Stairs led upwards whilst under the house various farming appliances were stacked on the ground. There was a plough, some fishing nets and traps. To the side was a kitchen ringed by a low wall consisting of concrete breeze blocks. Like the back room, these hadn’t been plastered over.

‘Mother! You didn’t say you were coming!’

A girl ran out to embrace Dee. I guessed it was June.

‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Dee laughed, hugging her tight.

June looked up at me, wide- eyed, staring. In the background I could see what looked like a boy pacing up and down, flicking a stick at bushes and the ground. He kept his head down, occasionally quickly looking up at us before continuing his solitary patrol.

‘Toei! Come here! I want you to meet loong (uncle) Jeff,’ Dee called out.

‘Toei, glad to meet you, how old are you?’ I was hoping once she realized I could speak Thai she would feel less afraid of me.

Toei raised her head. ‘I’m ten. Loong, can you swim? There is a pond nearby, we could catch some fish.’

Dee laughed. ‘She’s a real outdoor girl, Jeff. Come on and meet Met and her family before you go off swimming.’

A woman in her early thirties holding a young child on her waist stepped forward.

‘This is Met, my sister,’ Dee introduced her.

‘Ah, the lady looking after your three children,’ I turned to Dee.

‘Not only that,’ Dee was laughing. ‘She has three daughters of her own.’

‘What!’ I exclaimed. ‘She’s looking after six children?’

At that moment three teenage girls slowly descended the wooden staircase.

They politely greeted me, waiing me in greeting as Met reeled off her daughters’ names.

Muay, Dao Huay and Ning.

I would never remember all these names.

‘And who is this?’ I asked Dee, pointing to the girl on Met’s waist.

‘Fah! Come here.’ Dee held out her arms. So this was her youngest.

But Fah wouldn’t budge. Who was this unfamiliar man with Dee, and who was Dee, come to that? Just some woman who sometimes visited Met’s house, Met was her real mum.

Met looked apologetic, ‘Our home is poor as you can see.’

It was hard to deny, the low wall around the outdoor kitchen needed plastering. Yet the children all looked well and were wearing decent clothes. Met herself looked the picture of health.

‘So where is Prom, Met’s husband?’ I asked Dee.

‘He’s gone to see his fish traps, he should be back soon,’ she replied.

We sat down on mats on the kitchen floor and ate breakfast, larb (minced pork with garlic) and sticky rice.

Met and Dee chatted away, catching up on local news. Soon neighbours appeared, joining in the conversation. Dee was obviously a popular figure in the village. I was of interest for a few minutes, a Westerner who could speak some Thai and a possible new beau of Dee. But once it was clear my ability in the Issan dialect was limited, my novelty wore off and it was time for the neighbours to move on to something else of interest. I could see Toei looking restless.

‘Dee, where is this pond? Could Toei and I walk there?’ I enquired.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘We’ll borrow a couple of motorbikes. It’s on Met’s farmland next to mine.’

It was one and a half kilometres away.

‘That’s my land,’ Dee pointed to the adjoining rice fields.

‘So did you get a good harvest this year?’ I asked.

‘No, I mortgaged the land to help pay for the kids’ living expenses,’ was her reply.

‘What! How much?’ I knew the step from a mortgage to a sale was often not far.

‘Seven thousand baht,’ she answered.

That was about two hundred pounds at the time.

 ‘I’ll pay that off and next rainy season you can keep the rice yourself,’ I volunteered. I just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone losing their land

Dee smiled, ‘really?’

‘Loong! Come on, let’s find some fish.’ Toei couldn’t wait.

I clambered down the slopes of the pond. You had to be careful. It was painful to walk in bare feet on the laterite rocks.

Toei and June swam in the Thai doggy style. They could swim but it looked like hard work. I showed them some breaststroke and gentle crawl. Toei was particularly fearless, jumping off the rocks into the water. Dee sat in the small hut next to the pond watching us.

‘We will never catch fish like this,’ I shouted to Toei. ‘We’ll scare them all away.’

She didn’t care. She was having too much fun swimming and jumping in the water.

‘I’ll come back later with some bait and Por (Dad) Prom,’ she shouted back.

‘Just how many dads can a kid have in Thailand?’ I wondered.

Back in the village later on, Fah was getting used to her biological mum, Dee. She allowed Dee to pick her up and walk with her, holding her hand.

It was touching, moving and sad at the same time, a child and mother trying to get used to each other.

After swimming we hired a skylab and went to the local town to buy the night’s dinner and some clothes for the girls. It was fun to watch the twins swinging on each arm of Dee as they strolled and skipped down the street, picking out shirts, dresses and shorts from the pavement stalls.

‘Come on Toei, look here’s a lovely dress. The colour you love too, dark blue.’

Dee was trying her best to turn Toei into a girl but I could see it was a daunting task. Even the pace she walked at, striding forward, was not a Thai girl’s style.

I laughed, ‘Come on Toei; let’s find some jeans for you.’

In contrast, June had no problem picking out matching skirts and tops. Holding them up to the air, checking the quality of the material, she clearly had her own idea of dress sense. She had an infectious laugh and a hilarious way of arching her eyebrows and twisting her mouth indicating someone (usually Toei but sometimes Dee) had just said something she considered absurd.

After dinner she sat down beside me and pulled her English schoolbook out of her bag. The paper was thin, ‘cheap skates in the Ministry,’ I thought. But still she was only ten, and at least she was learning some English. There was a picture of a cat.

‘Cat,’ I said.

She looked at me, ‘Cairt,’ she replied in her soft, feminine voice.

I let it go, she turned the page back. To my surprise I noticed she had two thumbs on her right hand. The second one wasn’t parallel to the first though. Rather it was bent at right angles.

‘Bat,’ I continued.

‘Bairt,’ she answered more determinedly this time.

‘Loong, why do you say bat? The book says bairt.’

I looked at the book more closely. There were Thai transliterations of the English words in the book and then I realised why she was pronouncing the words differently to my standard middle class UK accent. The book was using the Thai vowel which produces the ‘air’ sound rather than the ‘a’ sound. Oh well, the Thai kids would all sound like Australians when they spoke English: ‘g’day oim from Thailand.’ Why not? Thailand was nearer to Australia than to the UK.

We continued with the book for a few more minutes and then June abruptly shut it and stood up.

‘Loong, would you like to see some photos?’ She looked at me, grinning. She was enjoying playing host.

‘Sure,’ I answered. She ran upstairs and came back with another book. Opening it up, four or five photos fell out. They were of herself and her classmates. They were all dressed up in Thai traditional dance costumes, performing in front of some adults. It was impossible for me to guess which one was June. They all looked angelic with their face powder, charcoal black eyebrows and hair pulled up. Their costumes glittered in the photos.

She stabbed at one of the girls in the photos. ‘That’s me.’ Holding up her hand with the double thumb, she wrinkled her nose. ‘Not beautiful,’ she said sadly.

‘Don’t worry June, no one will notice from ten metres away. You look just as beautiful as the other dancers.’ I tried to console her. ‘And anyway, with that hand you could play the piano very well.’

This time I got the arched eyebrows and screwed up mouth treatment. I laughed. We sat there in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly she blurted out, ‘Is loong going to stay with us? If loong stays, I will clean the house every day. I’m good at washing clothes too, and I can iron.’

‘And we can go shopping for clothes every weekend in town,’ I added teasingly.

‘No loong. That would be too expensive, once a month is enough.’

I had to laugh again. This kid had some firm ideas.

‘Well that sounds great,’ I answered. ‘But first I have to go back to work in Bangkok. But let’s see what we can do about next year.’

She looked up at me. ‘Goodnight loong,’ she said in English and promptly disappeared beneath the mosquito net snuggling up to her sister and Dee.

The next morning Toei, June and I piled onto one motorbike and cruised around the area. There was a large reservoir nearby and we stood under the overspill in our own mini waterfall.

‘Loong! Take some pictures,’ Toei yelled through the noise of the falling water.

We took photos of ourselves, laughing and drenched in our clothes. Luckily the sun was out and hot so we were half dry by the time we got back. Soon it was lunchtime and then time for Dee and I to head back to Nong Khai.

As we climbed the steps of the bus at the T junction, Dee turned round and looked down at Fah in Met’s arms.

‘Fah! Come to Nong Khai with Mum. Come on! Mum will look after you, you can live with Mum.’ She held out her arms.

But Fah wasn’t budging. Met was mum, here was home. She wasn’t going to risk going somewhere with this lady who only sometimes came to visit.

Dee sat down heavily on a seat at the back of the bus and burst into tears. It was heartrending and reminded me in one sense of my boarding school days and the wrench when you’re torn away from your warm and loving home back to the big and cold school with its forbidding teachers. Sometimes I felt it would have been better to have had no holidays or breaks at all. This was different, it was worse, but it was still that familiar pain of separation of loved ones.

The bus pulled away, leaving Toei, June and Met waving in the retreating distance. Dee sat there sobbing.

I thought for a moment. ‘Well, why don’t you sell papaya in the village or in a town nearer home?’

‘There is no money in the village, and the nearest town is too small also,’ she replied, shaking as she spoke. ‘Nong Khai is far busier. I can make enough money there to at least send some home.’

‘So why not move the kids to Nong Khai?’ I persisted.

She had obviously thought about this before.

‘I would have to rent a bigger room, maybe two rooms and I couldn’t keep an eye on the girls all the time when I’m working. And Fah is so young, who can take care of her when I’m at the stall? It’s safer for them all to stay here with Met and Prom.’ She looked wretched, looking out of the window with tears in her eyes.

I wracked my brains as the afternoon bus ambled along under the glorious old trees, sunlight flashing through their boughs and leaves. Dee wept quietly as I put my arm around her. Outside there was such beauty. Why did we have to feel so sad inside?

 

 

 

 

To be continued....? 

[SniperSpider]

Thanks Owl, finally a well written and decent post. Quite a change on this forum. I hope we could have more posts like it. We might run into each other in Nong Khai or Udon Thani and never know it. We don't farm but live a great life in a Mekong village 20-30 minutes north of Nong Khai. My wife does have her trees and a small garden. She seems to have the green thumb. After long hours driving back and forth to work in big city traffic while living in the suburbs back in the home country, I really enjoy the village setting. I don't miss big city at all. I'm the only english speaking foriegner here and we seem to share similar village experiences. I'm really glad we don't have to fly to Bangkok once a year to the embassy anymore.  Nong Khai, Udon Thani, and Khon Kaen is big enough for me. Some of my wife's family have farms and I especially like to go pick rambutan. Eat one bag one. Eat one bag one.

[bannork]

9 minutes ago, SniperSpider said:

Thanks Owl, finally a well written and decent post. Quite a change on this forum. I hope we could have more posts like it. We might run into each other in Nong Khai or Udon Thani and never know it. We don't farm but live a great life in a Mekong village 20-30 minutes north of Nong Khai. My wife does have her trees and a small garden. She seems to have the green thumb. After long hours driving back and forth to work in big city traffic while living in the suburbs back in the home country, I really enjoy the village setting. I don't miss big city at all. I'm the only english speaking foriegner here and we seem to share similar village experiences. I'm really glad we don't have to fly to Bangkok once a year to the embassy anymore.  Nong Khai, Udon Thani, and Khon Kaen is big enough for me. Some of my wife's family have farms and I especially like to go pick rambutan. Eat one bag one. Eat one bag one.

If you're anywhere north of Nong Khai you're in Laos!

[Odin Norway]

2 hours ago, SteveK said:

Well the seeds for my potato tree didn't work either. Must be something to do with Thai soil. 555.

Unless the potato `tree` was a bit of a joke.????.No most soil can not be used for potatoes.Close to Chiang Mai it can be done.To hot in the daytime most other places.

[SniperSpider]

2 minutes ago, bannork said:

If you're anywhere north of Nong Khai you're in Laos!

I drive on highway 211 North, according to the sign, from Nong Khai while staying in Thailand all the way home. It's a little twisty here and there yet follows the Mekong on the Thailand side of the river. I never cross over the river to Laos. It's definitely not south, unless I'm going to Nong Khai, and definitely not Laos. Try staying on topic and not deflecting.  We have mapaholics now on the forum? Show me where I stated true north or as the eagle flies.  Besides, I wasn't quoting to you.

[bannork]

44 minutes ago, SniperSpider said:

I drive on highway 211 North, according to the sign, from Nong Khai while staying in Thailand all the way home. It's a little twisty here and there yet follows the Mekong on the Thailand side of the river. I never cross over the river to Laos. It's definitely not south, unless I'm going to Nong Khai, and definitely not Laos. Try staying on topic and not deflecting.  We have mapaholics now on the forum? Show me where I stated true north or as the eagle flies.  Besides, I wasn't quoting to you.

No need to be so touchy, you're in a public forum, anyone has the right to reply.

[Fireyfish]

7 hours ago, Oxpilot said:

You are planting avocados from seeds? I have heard that they will not bear fruiot when planted from seeds. It didn't make sense at the time.

They will bear fruit but it will take at least 7-9 years ... I graft onto seedlings from a very heavy bearing tree and they fruit a year or two later .. I live in Northern NSW ... bushfire smoke heavy again today

 

[Fireyfish]

for anyone wishing to have a crack at grafting  this is a good simple how to vid  ... I have no connections to the presenter

 

[EVENKEEL]

6 hours ago, SniperSpider said:

I drive on highway 211 North, according to the sign, from Nong Khai while staying in Thailand all the way home. It's a little twisty here and there yet follows the Mekong on the Thailand side of the river. I never cross over the river to Laos. It's definitely not south, unless I'm going to Nong Khai, and definitely not Laos. Try staying on topic and not deflecting.  We have mapaholics now on the forum? Show me where I stated true north or as the eagle flies.  Besides, I wasn't quoting to you.

Public Forum......And, I was thinking the exact same thing when you wrote north of Nong Khai. 

[SniperSpider]

5 hours ago, bannork said:

No need to be so touchy, you're in a public forum, anyone has the right to reply.

No I am not touchy, just correct?  Highways with odd numbers go north and south, even numbers go east and west, the same as in many countries.  It is ok to correct someone if you are indeed correct.