Fireman's respite

I have not gone to Mum's place for several nights, which gives me more time to kick around at home, and see people who I might have neglected.

Last night I caught up with Gor the firefighter. I saw him earlier in the week, perched on the back of a motorbike.

He and his friends roared by on their bikes as I crossed the road to my place, which is opposite a small fire station where the boys work and sleep. I reminded myself to go back and see them, as I need friends when boyfriend Maiyuu is away.

The boys were dressed up and looked as if they were going out. Gor gave me a smile and waved. His teeth flash when he smiles, because he has a stud in one tooth.

Gor and I met the first time late last year, when I came home from Mum's shop one night worse for wear. I walked past the courtyard outside their little fire station, where Gor and his friends were drinking. They invited me to join them, so I did.

Back then, Gor was jobless, and relied on handouts to meet his daily needs. Six months later, we met one day in the street. He was wearing trousers and a windjacket, and looked smart. 'I have found a job,' he said proudly.

Gor was selling computer games to internet shops, and spent his days going from one shop to another. Later, I found out they were pirated games. No surprise, then, if he should find himself in difficulty after police launched one of their occasional blitzes on selling pirated software.

They raided shops which bought his games, and fined the owners for buying goods in breach of copyright. Suddenly, Gor was out of a job, and back where he started.

He has applied for work elsewhere, without success, perhaps because he is too young: just 16. 'They tell me they will call, but they never do,' he says.

Another night when we bumped into each other, he told me he had been in a motorcycle accident. His bike overturned, and he broke three ribs on one side. He lifted his shirt. I could little visible scarring, so he was lucky.

At night, I order food then usually visit the canal nearby while I wait for it to be cooked. Last night as I made my way to the canal, I walked past Gor and his firefighter friends, who were standing at the entrance to the fire station.

If they are locked in conversation, they do not always notice me in the gloom, but last night, they did.

'Gor! Gor!' his friends called out, trying to interrupt. 'Dad..Dad!'

The boys took to calling me Dad last year, after I gave Gor a pair of shoes. Some who met me the first time remember my name. To the rest, I am 'Dad'.

Anyway, I kept walking, because I wanted to watch the canal. I was sure none of the boys had ever been down there, even though it is but a few minutes' walk away. Thais appear to keep the young in their place.

At her shop, Mum forbids teen motorcycle taxi boys who work opposite from sitting at her place, as they seldom have money to spend. They can buy cigarettes, Pepsi or whatever, but then must leave.

A similar arrangement appears to hold in the market where I live. I never see the firefighter boys sitting or eating at shops in the area. They go out on their motorbikes to fetch food, then come straight back. It is as if no one wants to know them, because they are young, jobless, and have no money.

The fire station is opposite a long strip of food stalls which open for business every night under a tent. When I stop to talk to the boys, I wonder if the shopkeepers are watching.

On my return from the canal, Gor caught my eye, so I stopped to talk. He looked healthy enough, though he still suffers from acne on his cheeks.

His hair is so long that he has to keep brushing it away from his face. Soon it will reach his ear on the other side, so he can tuck it behind.

I asked him many of the same questions I asked last time. He works two shifts, from 6pm to midnight, and 3am to noon. They work every day and do not get paid. He relies on friends who are earning money for handouts. If that fails, he goes to the local temple for a free meal.

More worrying is that his parents, in Chiang Mai, do not call. 'When is the last time you spoke to them?'

'Months ago,' he said.

His father is a policeman. 'I suspect he is just too busy,' said Gor. 'I live life day to day. It is best not to get too serious, or you start thinking too much.'

Gor has a younger brother, who is studying in Bangkok, and who he sees often. 'All he does is talk!' he says, laughing.

His parents do not send him money. I do not know where his brother lives, or with whom.

However, at least he has some family around, even if his parents don't want to know.

'How many times have you eaten today?' I asked.

'One.'

'What do you do if you run out of clothes?'

'Borrow my friends' clothes.'

I apologised in advance for asking the next question. I apologised to myself, too, because the answer could have had expensive repercussions.

'Do you lack for anything?'

'No, I am happy. All I lack is a cellphone, after my old one was stolen. But they are not essential.'

Then I tried to give him some fatherly advice.

'I know Thais are generous. But when your friends ask you for things, you must think of yourself first. You must not go without meals or other important things for the sake of your friends,' I said.

'I should help myself first, then look after them later,' he agreed.

Short pause. 'Are you going home to bed now?' he asked.

Gor often asks me this. He wants to come back to my place, so he can sleep on a comfortable bed rather than on the floor of the fire station.

I cannot let him do that, because he is too young. Taking him back to my place, even with a friend, would reflect poorly on both of us.

Instead, I gave him B100 for food, and said I would come back tonight with more so he can get a haircut. He gave me a wai.

I said good night, and went home alone.