Still cause for hope

I saw Mr Esan outside the condo a couple of nights ago. He was wearing a shirt, which is always a surprise, as he likes to take it off about midnight. He claims he's hot. I reckon he likes to show off his tattoos.

He was talking to his girlfriend via one of those clever phones which hangs around the neck. I didn't see it, nor the earpiece in his ear. His girlfriend was probably listening in on our conversation, but I don't care.

I can't remember how the conversation started, or even much of what we said, as I have been walking around in a daze since violence erupted on the streets of Bangkok on Tuesday. I watched too much of it unfold on television, and was in shock.

However, I am pleased to report that Mr Esan, whose real name is Ton, responded like any typical straight male who discovers a farang is interested in him. He asked me to spend money on him.

Ton was sitting with his security guard friend, who is also from the Northeast. He noticed I was carrying three cartons of food, which I order every night from a place in the market opposite our condo.

'What do you have there?' he asked.

'I don't know...I haven't looked yet,' I said.

'Why don't you give one box of food to the security guard, in case he runs out of food?'

I looked at them both. No, thanks.

'Have you eaten?' I asked Ton, for want of anything better to say.

'No...I have no money. Why don't you buy me some food?'

I looked at him. No, thanks.

I asked his name, told him mine, then went back to my condo to bed.

-
I am spending an hour down by the canal every day, watching the boats go by. It eases stress.

It is not fun watching Thais attack each other on the streets, nor read the grim reports in the Thai media which follow - post-mortems on the violence, inflamed editorials predicting the government will fall, academics calling on the government to resign, threats by protesters to take the government to court, boycotts by doctors, airline pilots...

School is out for the term, and every day local teens pile onto the pier to swim, or chew the fat. They have better things to talk about than violence on the streets.

'Don't bother following news of the conflict - Thais are hopeless,' one young man told me.

He had asked me, as Thais often do, if I liked living here.

'I do...but Thais like to fight each other,' I lamented on the day that police and protesters were attacking each other outside parliament.

'Thais make a big deal out of nothing...they fight, and then it goes away again,' another young man told me.

I am making friends with the youngsters who come to the pier. They ask me where I live, which country I come from, whether I have a girlfriend, and a job.

'Do you have a girlfriend - or a boyfriend?' one lad asked me craftily.

'And do you know the other farang who lives around here, who comes across as gay?' he asked.

Am I really that obvious? I thought to myself.

'I am not telling,' I said.

He held a cellphone to my ear, and asked me to translate the lyrics of a rap song which was playing.

'I can't understand what they are saying,' I said.

My young friend looked disappointed.

'Why not - it's English, isn't it?'

'They have a language all of their own,' I said.

A couple of young men asked me to dance to the music coming from their cellphone radios.One lad, who has a girlfriend, asked me if she was a 'beau-tee'.

'A what?'

'Beau-tee-ful,' he said.

'Yes, she is,' I said. The girl thanked me.

I see a couple of the lads often, as they live around the area. One lad, older than the rest, said he had left school and now sells CDs at Klong Thom market in Bangkok.

'The protests have scared all the customers...today there was no one around, so I finished work early and came here with my friends for a swim,' he said.

A young man with a tongue stud said his birthday was coming up. 'I am 11. I do not expect to get presents from my mother, as she does not have much money.

'At my age, I do not expect presents, but when I was a boy, if she did not give me presents, I used to get upset with her,' he said.

I talked to the youngsters in the gathering darkness for about an hour, before leaving for home.

The young are lively and energetic, and fill us with hope. I felt I was meant to meet them. In a melancholy moment at home, I realised that this year marks the 20th anniversary of my entry to the workforce.

I suspect the day I met this youngsters coincides with some occasion I have forgotten, but which someone in the Heavens wanted me to mark - perhaps the day, all those years ago, when I found my first job.

I was young, with my future ahead of me, much like those youngsters having fun by the pier. Back in those days, I was so enthusiastic, I used to set up appointments to meet people - and pedal off to see them on my pushbike.

I hope that, 20 years from now, they too can look back on their youth and realise - as I do now - that this is the most enjoyable and carefree time of their lives. They can never get it back, once it's gone, so I hope they make the most of it.