Boyfriend shares wisdom, Mum opens up, Ball starts work

‘I told you all along it would end like this,’ said boyfriend Maiyuu, in his usual sympathetic mode.

‘But you wouldn’t listen.’

I had told him the story of the day before, with Ball and his family. The day had started when I took him to an interview in town.

In the middle of the day, I lost my cellphone, probably in the taxi but possibly to a bunch of thieving game players at Ball’s place.

At the end, I was called upon to take Ball and his girlfriend to hospital.

Because I happened to be there, I was asked to pay for the taxi rides and any other incidental expense we encountered. I could see that if this arrangement carried on, soon I would be left with no money.

Maiyuu doubts as if anyone set out to dig into my pockets. ‘But you are sensitive, and Thais know it as soon as they meet you.

‘Ball’s mother should have offered to repay your taxi to the interview, as Ball is her responsibility, not yours. And Ball should not have asked you to take them to hospital until he had asked his mother first.’

All true...but it’s not the end of the world. I shall have to tell his family what kinds of help I can, and cannot provide.
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Ball's Mum came from a large family and started work at the age of 12. She lifted heavy bags of cement in a factory, toiled in fields, to help her parents make ends meet. Even now, the burden has not lifted.

After her husband died, she was left with four dependent children to raise.

They have grown into young adults, only one of whom works.

However, in addition to her own children, Mum also raises two infants: Nong Fresh, 1, the child of a relative who died; and a boy, aged a little younger, who is the first child of Mum's only daughter, Kae.

The list of family dependents does not end there. The other day, a bunch of family members turned up for a short stay. They comprised Mum's own mother; a cousin aged in her early 30s, and a large tribe of nephews and nieces aged under 10.

‘I look after them during the long school break every year, as their parents are dead, ailing, in jail, or have no money,’ she said.

Ball’s family did not complain, but simply made way. Their living room is already crowded, and the combined toilet/shower is tiny. Where before their small, ramshackle home catered to the needs of eight permanent members, it is now housing twice that number.

The remote appliance for the home’s only air con unit, in Mum’s bedroom, is broken, and will cost more than B1000 to fix.

She cannot adjust the temperature, which is set too high to compete with the sweltering conditions outside. Electric fans, pressed into service instead, are now the family’s own means of keeping cool.

The family’s only means of transport, a motorbike, eats up B100 in petrol a day. Ball’s younger brother, Beer, ferries people about.

He takes Ball’s girlfriend Jay to work at a local supermarket, brings her home for meal breaks, and picks her up again at the end of her shift.

He is also the family’s chief stand-by childraiser. When a child needs changing or feeding, it is usually poor Mr B who is called upon to help.

Ball, too, pulls his weight. He knows how to make up a milk bottle, change nappies, bathe and dress the little ones. He takes them for walks, plays with them, and will even sleep with them in his arms if it keeps them happy.

Mum is one of the bravest women I have met. We are only one month apart in age, and get along well.

I spent an hour with her yesterdy as she told me about her friends, family, her own childhood.

Her own family knows how good she is with money, and ask her for it often. Her eldest son, a soldier, sends her virtually all his earnings.

Ball’s elder sister Kae, and Ball’s own girlfriend, also contribute financially. But it is not enough.

When I turned up yesterday, Mum's partner Lort was preparing to pay a power bill going back three months. ‘If we don’t pay it today, we will be cut off,’ she said.

Given these straitened circumstances, I am amazed I am not asked to help more often.

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As I write, Ball has started duties as a security guard, his first day back in the full-time workforce in two months.

The interview with the security contractor in Silom was not as futile as I thought.

Maem, a woman who knows Ball’s mother, happened to see us there. She works in the building where the interview was held.

Maem remembered Ball, and asked after his family.

Three jobs were going, including one at an office in the Silom high-rise in which the interview took place.

The security guard interviewing Ball told him he would be too small for that job.

However, after we returned home, Maem called Ball’s mother. She had obtained the number from a mutual friend.

On Mum's behalf, she spoke to the head of the company, who gave Ball the job.

Mum told me the good news when I dropped in yesterday afternoon. As we chatted, Ball and his girlfriend Jay sat in the living room, eating their first meal of the day.

An hour later, Ball and Jay went into Klong Toey to buy two black-and-white uniforms for him to wear.

They bought them at the same shop which used to supply Ball’s school uniforms. ‘I will put them on deposit. The pants will also need taking up at the leg, as none of Ball’s trousers fit him,’ said Mum.

They took the trousers to the Tesco Lotus store on Rama 4 to get them fixed.

I could not accompany them on this family outing, as I was due at the office.

However, I offered to call the family at 6am to wake Ball in time for work.

When I called, no one answered, which was a bad sign. However, Mum called me about 8am to say that Ball did in fact make it to Silom, though he was an hour late.

His brother, Mr B, took him on the family motorbike.

‘Ball’s girlfriend is unwell, and Ball asked if he could put off his start until tomorrow. However, the company has already relocated the security guard who was working there, so he had no choice but to go,’ said Mum.

‘You should have seen him in his security guard's uniform,’ she added. ‘He looked handsome.’