In search of a surrogate Dad

‘No matter whether they are men or women, I don’t like my friends getting too close,’ said carer R.

‘I am shy, so I like people to keep their distance.’

I drank at carer R’s booze stall in the slum area behind my place on New Year’s Eve.

Earlier the same day, I had come cross him standing in the vacant slum lot between his place and mine.

He had a cellphone pressed to his ear. I peered into his face, so I could admire his handsome features as he spoke.

‘Don’t stare at me like that!’ he said, leaving abruptly.

That night, as our group sat drinking at his Thai herbal liquor stall, R apologised for his abrupt departure. ‘I don’t even like my girlfriend getting too close to me,’ he said.

When I met him in the vacant lot, he was listening to a recording of a woman from the telephone company.

One of R’s neighbours, a 79-year-old man called Grandpa, was having trouble with his cellphone.

‘I took him to the department store today to help him pay the bill and fix his phone problem, as I don’t think he could have done it himself,’ said carer R.

‘You are kind,’ I told him.

‘Actually, I am not always so kind – but I know I can say whatever I like around you, as you like me,’ he joked.

Our New Year’s Eve party was held around a small table at carer R’s booze stand.

Guests included Grandpa, and a 19 year-old possible father-to-be, Ball. Both live close to R's stall, which is set up on a simple red table at the end of a narrow street in which carer R himself lives.

The street abuts a busy road with a 7-11 on one side, and a vacant lot leading to the rear of my condo on the other.

These colourful characters were just the mainstays of the evening. As we sat drinking, teens roared past on motorcycles. Mothers harried by with their children, and kids aged under 10 set off firecrackers in the vacant lot.

Half an hour into our session at R’s stall, two men lifted their shirts to show me their battle scars.

One man in his 30s, who had a deep scar running down his stomach, said he earned his scar in an operation on his bladder. ‘I drank too much and it burst,’ he said.

‘I didn’t know that could happen,’ I said.

The second man was Lort, aged 47, partner to Ball's mother.

He showed me his scar, in an almost identical place.

‘My scar comes from a traffic accident,’ he said.

Early in the evening, I met Mr Ball himself.

He lives with an extended family of eight, including Lort, and two infants, including an adopted baby girl.

Trader Joe, the other guy with the scar, knew Ball’s father, now dead.

'I have watched Ball grow up since he was boy,' he said.

A dried fish trader, Joe is a regular customer at carer R’s stand, as is Ball himself.

Lort ducked back into the slum for a moment, and emerged with Fresh, the household's adopted baby daughter.

I held her tiny figure my arms, my first baby hug in months, if not years. She cried, so I gave her back.

‘She is not used to farang faces,’ said Lort.

After Lort left, Ball opened up about his life at home.

He is not happy that Mum has a new man in his life, even if Lort has been around a few years now.

Ball’s dad died several years ago of an alcohol-related illness, but Ball misses him and wishes life could be the same.

‘He was so ill before he died that I used to spoon-feed him rice,’ said Ball, who started to cry as he recalled good times with his father.

‘My Mum is happy that I have a girlfriend, and is prepared to help us bring up our child...but when I feel lonely I still need someone who can listen to me.

‘I do harm to myself,’ he said, pulling up his shorts legs.

His legs were scarred - the legacy of Ball unleashing a knife upon himself one day when he felt in need of attention.

Ball’s girlfriend turned up, and sat with us for half an hour.

'She is two weeks’ pregnant by me,' said Ball, who has the face of an angel and is a keen follower of English football.

‘I can be a listening ear for you when you want to unload,’ I told him.

He liked that idea, as he promptly went into protective mode, fussing over me for the rest of the evening as best a 19-year-old man can.

Carer R also enjoys offering Ball advice.

‘When we want to ask the farang questions about his life, we should ask him first if he minds talking about personal things,’ carer R reminded Ball.

‘And if you really want to know about someone, you should ask him about his work,’ he said.

‘If you want a surrogate Dad, you have found him in carer R,’ I told Ball.

‘He is an excellent teacher, and cares for you very much.’