Generous with other people's money

Easy come...easy go!

When I visit Ball’s family in the slum, we spend most of our time in the sitting room, which opens on to an alleyway.

People can enter or leave any time they like. Many do, including some faces I have never seen before.

These include miserable types who come begging for food and money.

I don’t know how well Mum knows them, but they feel sufficiently at ease in her company to just walk in and sit down.

They neither knock on the door, nor call out to announce their arrival. They just appear...wanting things.

About midday, I dropped in to see Ball’s Mum.

She had just returned from a trip to the market, and told me the events of the morning past.

Ball and his girlfriend made it to work, though they had to hire motorbike taxis to get there.

Normally, Ball’s younger brother Beer would take them, but yesterday his motorcycle would not start.

Mum gave them B60 each for a motorcycle taxi instead, which left her short of money she would normally give to Mr B to recharge his petrol tank.

Mr B puts B100 of petrol in the family motorbike every day.

‘I have no money left,’ she said, almost in passing.

I thought about this remark. If he didn’t fill up his tank, how could he pick up Ball and his girlfriend from work?

I pulled out a B100 note, and gave it to Mr B. He gave me a wai of thanks.

Mum was chatting away as she fed one of the kids.

Her own mother sat on a pull-out couch next to us. Another half dozen people were mingling about, including a teenage girl who spends most of her days at Mum’s place (her own parents aren’t up to the task of caring for her), and Mr B.

A moment later, I looked up, and found some old wizened guy had parked himself beside Mum.

He let himself in without a word, and sat down.

‘I haven’t eaten in two days. Can I borrow some money?’ he asked.

Mum didn’t look the least surprised to see him. ‘Perhaps you haven’t eaten for two days because you’ve been drinking instead?’ she asked.

‘Oh, no...I have stopped that. I am back at work, but have to wait three days before they pay me,’ he said.

Mum’s reaction surprised me.

‘Beer, give him the B100,’ she said.

Mr B meekly handed it over.

Hang on – that was money I gave them for petrol, not to help some grafter from the slum!

‘Hand it back! That money is not for you!' I told the old guy.

The old guy looked at me. He knew my name, which didn’t surprise me, as Thais have a way with names.

‘Mali, I really haven’t eaten for days,’ he told me.

‘I don’t believe you,’ I said.

He mumbled a few words, about how he’d repay the loan the next day. Then he left, as quietly as he had arrived.

I was unhappy that Ball’s mother could give away money I had handed to her only moments before, to some bum I had never met.

‘I have known him for years. He’s a building contractor, and hires Ball occasionally to help him lay tiles. However, he’s also a drinker, and forgets to buy himself food,’ she said matter-of-factly.

‘But now Mr B can’t refill his petrol tank!’ I told her, exasperated.

‘He has a good heart,’ she said.

‘I am sure he has...especially when you are giving him things. How much has he borrowed?’

‘He has borrowed B1000 over the years...but one day he will pay it back,’ she said.

‘Now you can add another B100 to the debt,’ I said.

I was angry, though part of me also felt sorry for Thais who insist on giving to those less fortunate.

They don’t appear to apply the same criteria which I would in assessing whether to give: for example, is he a worthy cause who helps himself? Or is he simply an irresponsible waster?

-
I had gone to Ball’s place intending to discuss a proposal that I top up the money she gives her son every day for work.

If I added a mere B40 a day, say, he would have enough to get a motorcycle home on those days when his brother failed to turn up. He could save the rest.

But after seeing how generous his mother could be with other people’s money, I decided against.

If I enter such an arrangement at all, it probably will be Mum’s friend Noi, who works in the same office as Ball, and helped him get his job as a security guard.

She buys him snacks to eat during the day. I could give her the money instead.

-
‘Ball’s mother has money - don’t worry about her,’ said carer R.

I dropped in to see him at his ya dong stand last night.

‘Ball has started work, but she still gives him just a tiny amount of money each day, as if he’s not earning a wage,’ he said.

Mum also holds on to her son’s ATM card. No doubt she is looking forward to his first pay day, when she can ask him to help meet the family’s outgoings.

-
Ball himself turned up about 11pm.

He stayed clear of the ya dong, which was sensible.

Ball looked haggard and drawn. He was forced to walk home again last night, as his brother failed to turn up.

His mother wants to buy him a pushbike to get to work, so he no longer has to rely on the family motorbike.

However, Ball would rather wait until he has enough money to put down a deposit on his own motorbike, which he will share with girlfriend Jay.

‘I will have to find somewhere to park it. A friend suggests Patpong, but I have no idea where that is,’ he said.

'I will help you with the motorbike,’ I said.

Ball objected.

‘I have asked Mum not to ask for any help from you, except maybe for the occasional drink,’ he said.

'As for your trip home from work tomorrow, let me give you B100,’ I said.

Ball was reluctant to accept it. I bickered and negotiated with him for half an hour before he would finally let me thrust the note into his hand.

As we sat, the rings around his eyes were growing darker, and his breath began to whistle and wheeze in his chest.

It was time my young friend went to bed. At midnight, I escorted Ball home.

Again, I tried to give him the B100.

‘I am worried my friends will think I am tricking the farang,’ he said miserably.

We were standing in the alleyway, which was quiet and still.

‘They can’t see us. Who knows?

‘I have had a terrible day. Let me feel good about at least one thing I have done,’ I pleaded.

Ball took the money, gave me a deep wai, and went home to bed.