Ties of friendship

The boyfriend felt ill with a head cold or flu yesterday, and was out of sorts. I have had breathing problems and a bad cough for weeks. All of this is probably aggravated by the cold weather. Bangkok's climate is getting annoying, like that of the West - why am I still here?

Walking through the market without breaking out in a sweat is pleasant. Spending two or three hours sitting on the pier watching life go by is good, too. At the height of the hot season, I can do neither, so we should regard this cold-season break as a welcome change.

Still, I would like to try hot again, just to see if our health problems can clear up. In the heat, the boyfriend might also be less inclined to cook and bake...so how else will he spend his idle time? I'm curious to know that, too.
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The delapidated wooden pier where we liked to sit

'Seven of my friends have now joined the monkhood, we feel so bad about what happened.'

I was talking to Mr Nok, who I met a few weeks before, when he turned up at the pier with a group of friends for a swim.

The boys have lost one of their friends, a disabled youngster called Ou. I read in the local papers about his death at the hands of a group of angry teens.

I didn't realise it was the same boy until Nok told me we had met at the local pier close to my home.

Ou was physically disabled. His school friends have entered the monkhood to make merit for him, though some do so out of a sense of guilt.

On the day he died, Mr Nok and his friends fought a group of lads outside a temple. One group gave the other a bad look...that's enough to spark a fight these days.

In Nok's group, the able-bodied ones fled, leaving Ou to face the angry ones alone. Ou, who lost his life in the ensuing fight, was found stabbed and beaten.

His friends, who went to his funeral, feel guilty. Seven have joined the monkhood for a few days each to make amends.

Nok, who fancies himself as a rebel, nonetheless feels bad about abandoning his friend.

'We ran because they pulled out knives,' he said, while fingering the grip-end of a hammer which he pulled out of his school rucksack, and which he himself keeps handy as a weapon.

Nok lives with his Mum, a masseuse who works at night. They come originally from Esan, in the Northeast, though they now live in Bangkok.

His Dad left when he was young. He has two brothers; one is a painter, the other serving time in jail for a drug offence.

A tiny little chap, aged 12, he has played truant from school for the last two days. He visits the pier while he waits for the hours to tick down before he can go home again.

He wore regular uniform when I saw him the other day. The day before, he wore his scout gear.

'I woke up too late to go to school. By the time I arrived, the students had already lined up for the flag ceremony,' he said.

Thai students assemble to pay respects to the national flag every morning. I did the same when I was at school, though it was a different flag, of course.

I doubt students in my home country do that any more...as a society, we have become too grown up.

The pier is within walking distance of Nok's home, though further away from his school. Teachers are unlikely to visit looking for errant pupils, which is convenient.

Nok and I sat on the pier for for three or four hours. We talked, and watched the boats go by.

On day one, he was hungry. I had no change, so I gave him B50.

In late afternoon, a friend of mine, Nut, turned up.

Nut, who is 19, likes to fish from the pier. He was also hungry and had no money.

'Ask my friend Nok to split the B50 I just gave him,' I suggested.

Nok, of course, resisted. He picked up his bag and made to go home. The two boys were strangers to each other.

Nut, who is senior to Nok and took advantage of the age difference to pummel the younger boy with questions, asked him why he was wagging.

'At your age, you can still turn up late for the flag ceremony without being punished. You just wanted to bunk,' he said.

He asked Nok what school he went to, what year he was in, where he lived. It was a Thai-style inquisition....much like being chopped up, and having yourself handed back on a plate.

Thais do it so efficiently. They possess local knowledge and language skills which foreigners lack. We are just bystanders - though after taking a glimpse at the dark corners in this young man's sad life, maybe I should be thankful.