Missing Mum

Mum has gone back to Esan, for her first visit in months. Her visit coincides with Thai Mother's Day, which fell over the weekend. However, the real reason, I suspect, is that she had just had enough.

Mum's younger sister, Isra, is looking after the shop at night while she is away. Working alone, Isra looks after the many customers who drop in every night, often for nothing more than a clutch of cigarettes, or Pepsi in a bag. It is a tiring, thankless job.

One night late last week, I turned up to hear Isra tell a customer that Mum and her son had returned to Esan. That was the first I knew of her plan to go home - and she had already left.

Isra had arrived in Bangkok from the same province in the Northeast a few days before, and the two had talked solidly every night.

Maybe Mum did not get a chance to tell me, but by the sounds of it, she left suddenly. She gave little warning to anybody.

Mum works at night, while her husband, a former army man in his late 50s, works the day shift. Mum's husband, who I shall call Pa, tells his customers that I am like a member of their family.

Families go through their ups and downs, and this one is no exception. A week or so ago, I arrived to find the place strangely empty - though the bartop was covered in plates of half-eaten food.

Later, I learned that Mum and her husband had argued about politics. Mum had thrown a bottle in his direction, which broke and cut his foot. Pa's middle-aged male friends had fled, leaving their food and drinks unfinished. Pa, who had been drinking, decided this would be a good time for him to go to bed.

Mum does not like Pa talking to customers about politics. She is afraid he will upset them. Pa is a supporter of the ousted former prime minister, Thaksin Shinawatra, who Mum believes swindled the country.

Pa insists on his right to bring up the topic. 'As the referendum approaches, we have to discuss the draft constitution - it is our right, and our duty,' he says.

'I will not let my wife gag me,' he told me over a drink.

I noticed Pa was still wearing a bandage on his foot where the bottle cut him. Thais vote on the draft charter in a national referendum on Sunday.

In Mum's absence, Pa and I talked about politics for hours. I don't mind talking, as I get to learn new Thai words - and the more I drink, the braver I get.

Pa, who is a good thinker and talker, likes to teach me Thai. In return, I translate for him Elvis Presley songs, which he plays on the piano, and teaches his son.

Pa has a dream of opening his own restaurant one day, where he will get his son, Som, to play piano and entertain the guests in English.

On my days off, I teach Som English. Pa hopes that one day Som will be good enough to play and chat to diners at the same time.

'These days, playing the piano is not enough. You have to be able to entertain guests as well,' he said.

Until recently, a city hotel hired Pa to play piano, paying him several thousand baht a night. However, ultimately he lost the job, because he could not talk to customers in English while tinkling the ivories.

'They said if I could not entertain the guests, they would pay me less. Also, if I don't talk, I have to play many more songs every hour just to fill up the time,' he said.

A couple of my performing arts friends joined us. Toon and his friend Ball are khon dancers in their early 20s, who perform the Ramakian on stage at weekends.

Toon stood up to perform moves from the Ramakian, where he plays a monkey. This was the first time I had ever seen him and his friends studying their movements over a drink.

'Why have I never heard you talk about this before?' I asked.

'Too shy,' he said.

Pa invited Toon to join the conversation on politics. Toon did so, because he is polite, but he looked reluctant. Pa read out a couple of sections from the draft charter which were vexing him.

Toon responded enthusiastically. 'I will tell my friends about those clauses,' he said.

The boys are wary of Pa, because no one likes to be lectured on politics, no matter what side they are on.

They know about Pa's reputation through Mum, that he can tend to be dogged and emphatic. But that's because he thinks no one is listening.

'I think Mum needs to give you your own space, after you finish work, so you can talk about whatever you like,' I said.

'But the boys may not want to talk about politics, because they do not want to upset their Mum.'

At first Pa misunderstood, and thought I was talking about his own son.

The performing arts boys call Mum 'mae' (แม่), which is Thai for Mum. She calls them 'look' (ลูก), the Thai word for child. Like Mum, they come from Esan.

Finally, Pa understood.

'They do not want to see us argue, because no one likes to see families disunited,' said Pa.

As a member of the same 'family', I don't want to see them upset either.

Later that night, I sent Mum a text message.

'The boys and I are all missing our Mum,' I said.