Run of bad luck (1)

Tearaway Thai boy Kew's run of bad luck has returned.

His work life has improved, but his romantic life is still a mess. To make things worse, a roommate stole almost all his clothes.

'This green shirt is the only shirt I have left,' he told me, after we met in the market for a noodle.

Since I saw Kew last on New Year's Eve, he has given himself a crewcut, which looks good, but rules out any immediate return to the bars of Pattaya, where he worked as a DJ and occasionally sold himself for sex. There, customers like him to wear his hair long.

I asked him how many times he had sold his body.

'About 20 to 30 times,' he said.

'Did you have sex with any men?'

'You mean, with gays?' he asked, looking surprised.

'If men turn up wanting that, we tell them to go to a gay bar, and chase them out,' he said.
'If I went out with men, it was just for drinks.'

Occasionally, customers ask him out for the day. He takes them to the beach, where he lets them do their thing, while he falls asleep.

Kew is one of those lucky Thais who can sleep at the drop of a hat - on a bus, a beach, or at work.

When I last saw him, he was working as a security guard, filling in where needed when permanent staff called in sick. He did not have his own workplace but was constantly on the move.

Since then he has joined another firm, where he now has his own permanent gig. He can also sit inside the building rather than outside as many security guards do here.

When his shift starts, Kew locks the factory door, takes a shower, and finds a place to sleep. He can watch TV, listen to the radio, and even has a dog as a sleeping companion.

'I know it's time to wake up the next morning when the dog licks my face, or I hear staff knocking on the door waiting to come in,' he says.

'All I have to worry about is the mosquitoes, which are fierce.'

Kew showed me mosquito bites on his arms and stomach.

'I sleep under a mosquito net with the dog on my arm.'

I took Kew for a noodle at a stand in the market, then to a small restaurant by the canal for a drink.

Kew ordered the noodles for us. Once again, I encountered the hostility which often accompanies my young friend when he deals with members of the public.

The noodle lady barely looked at him when taking his order. She must have seen him coming, and judged from his appearance that he was no good.

I eat at the noodle lady's place about once a week. Her stand is under a bridge close to a fenced area where local boys play football.

When I went to pay, she wagged her finger at me, as if she was reprimanding a child. She said nothing, and looked at me impassively. How was I supposed to respond?

now, see part 2