Mum steps in (part 1)

'Don't believe everything he says,' said Mum. 'It's not good for you to have a permanent taxi driver.'

That was it. Whoosh! My fantasies about young Ekk the taxi driver went out the window - or rather, since we are sitting at Mum's open-air streetfront bar, down the street, along with the evening breeze.

Mum had noticed me leaving her shop with the same taxi driver every night. Just moments before she gave me her counsel last night, she noticed me on the phone to Ekk. I had called hm to say I was ready to leave.

'I am on my way to see you,' said Ekk, who turned up about five minutes later.

He stayed in his taxi, and just looked at me from across the street.

'How much are you giving him?' Mum asked.

'The trip here costs B65 baht. Normally I give him a B100 note, and he gives me B20 change.'

Mum turned up her nose - not because I was giving him too little, but because I was giving him too much.

'Tonight, he did not have change, so I told him to keep the B100,' I said.

'Humph! said Mum. She knows I like Ekk, and can already see where it is heading. The farang forgets himself and starts giving out money, because he is infatuated with his new Thai boy.

Mum has seen me do this before. She wants me to think of my own interests - in short, keep my wallet closed - rather than indulging taxi drivers who are less interested in me than in my money.

Two nights ago, I went to see Ekk at his place for a drink. We drank at a small karaoke shop, deep inside a soi, about 10 minutes from where I live. The house where he sleeps and works was just 50 metres away. After our drink, he took me down to look at it.

As I took a taxi to his soi, I recalled travelling down the same route about two years ago, when I I taught English at a temple school, to adult second-chance education students.

The man who ran the course used to pick me up on his motorbike, and take me down a long, snaking tree-lined route to the south of my place, to a large school opposite a temple, where I would teach for the next two hours.

Then, with me perched on the back, he would take me back again. I taught for free, having been told there was no money to run the course.

Later, I heard that the course supervisor had in fact pocketed the state subsidy which he could have given me to teach his students.

I am smarter now, of course. Instead of being duped of money unawares, I give it away with my eyes open.

When the taxi arrived at his soi, I called Ekk, who came out to meet me. He was there within seconds...maybe he had been waiting. He was wearing a soft-collared shirt in the King's yellow.

We sat ourselves down in the karaoke shop, his regular, and ordered a small bottle of whisky. Moments later, half a dozen of his friends joined us at the next table. They were all taxi drivers and tuk-tuk drivers, and like Ekk, they all love to sing karaoke.

They spoke in Esan. Occasionally, if he thought I couldn't guess what was going on, Ekk translated for me.

This was after 1am. We could not sing Esan karaoke, as the owner's family was now asleep. I thanked God for small mercies, and carried on drinking. After an hour, we finished our whisky, and I asked Ekk to see his place.

His friends had gathered in a small knot outside, around their motorbikes and tuk tuks. They watched us as we walked alone down a lonely sub-soi towards Ekk's house.

We were alone, but for the trees. I suspected Ekk might feel uncomfortable being seen walking alone with a farang male, so I asked him if he was alright.

'We are all relaxed around here. It doesn't matter,' he said.

now, see part 2