Family dramas

Chueay's place, closed for the day

A young woman in her 30s runs the food place where I buy my lunch.

Her restaurant is next to a railway line, and occupies the bottom floor of a two-storey wooden rowhouse, where she lives along with her mother, and sister.

When the wooden shutters on the bottom floor are open, you can walk straight in from the soi (street). You can also see everything inside.

All three women have hearing problems, possibly because of the noisy railway, though more probably as a result of the family genes. The shop is open almost every day, so they do not get out much.

One of the daughters looks after most of the cooking, though occasionally the mother steps in. This daughter also does all the shopping for ingredients at the market, while her sister prepares the food.

Today when I went down to order, the daughter who cooks was asleep. Maiyuu and his friends from the condo call her 'Cheuay,' after the Thai word for lethargic, or inert.

She cooks quickly enough, but often cannot hear what customers are saying. Maiyuu's friends like to seat themselves first, then call out orders. Often they have to repeat themselves, so the whole process gets slowed down.

However, Cheuay enjoys visits from Maiyuu's friends, who lately include a kathoey, and a woman friend, new to the condo, who is bringing up a young child. She is also good at talking to her teenage customers. The taciturn mother and her helper sister, by contrast, say nothing.

Cheuay does excellent needlework - she showed me a piece the other day, which has just been framed, and looked as good as any painting. She is also religious, and admires the King. When I go past wearing the King's yellow, she is quick to compliment me, or give me the thumbs up.

When I entered the shop I could see the mother was lying on a daybed, which is where I normally find her. As she saw me approach, screamed at Cheuay, who was slumped in a chair.

'Get up, all you do is sleep all day, you're practically falling of your chair. I don't know why you have to be like this!' she hollered.

The mother has the right to spend her days resting, but her daughter, it seems, cannot.

Poor Cheuay woke with a start.

I looked at the mother angrily. She managed to extract her large bulk from the daybed and started moving around the restaurant at great speed, flicking a dusting cloth, while still bellowing at her daughter.

'I am sorry,' Cheuay said as she approached me. She looked flustered, and her eyes were tearing up.

I thought she was apologising for being asleep. 'Don't be sorry. I don't see the need for your mother to carry on like that. It's not necessary,' I said.

Actually, Cheuay was apologising for her unpleasant Mum.

'I am sorry she is like this. She gives me a headache,' Cheuay said.

No one deserves to be treated like that. I couldn't live cheek by jowl with my family. I don't know how Thais do it, but I admire them for trying.