Sleeping beauties, ya dong gang's last hurrah

I went to see Ball at his place, on the same day his girlfriend, Jay, had called me to ask for a loan.

I wasn’t able to help with the loan, but had offered to talk to Ball about the importance of his finding work.

Jay had sounded keen to see me, perhaps because her own efforts to persuade Ball to get a job have not borne fruit.

I needn’t have bothered, as by the time I arrived – 3pm, on the rump of a sunny afternoon when most people are doing active things – both were asleep.

‘Where’s Ball?’ I asked his Mum, who was sitting on the living room floor, playing a board game.

‘He hasn’t risen yet,’she said. ‘He’s asleep in my bedroom. A friend of his called early this morning and asked him out drinking,’ she said.

His younger brother, Mr B, opened the bedroom door, and turned on the lights.

I took a quick look inside. Ball and Jay lay in each other’s arms, fast asleep.

Mission unaccomplished, I left.

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Carer R plans a group trip to his home province of Yasothon during the Songkran festival next month.

He has invited his ya dong regulars along, including Ball and me.

I am unlikely to go, as the trip would take me away from home for a whole week. That represents lost income opportunities, and missed opportunities to get closer to the boyfriend (okay, I am joking about that).

I can’t imagine Ball will go either, as he will need money, and if I’m not there, he may have trouble finding a provider.

Yet the trip could probably represent our list fling together as a ya dong gang.

Carer R plans to move to Yasothon to stay with his wife’s father, who is old and ailing. He will take work as a contract builder at temples, and help keep his father-in-law’s place going.

‘He spends many hours alone. If I am there, he won’t feel so lonely. We can also cook for him,’ said R.

Carer R, as my name for him suggests, is the caring type. The other day a drunken vagrant turned up in the little street where R sets up his stand.

Market traders were selling fresh vegetables and fish on the ground nearby.

No one else felt motivated to help, but carer R found a begging cup for the man, and a better location for him to sit which was exposed to more foot traffic.

He also bought him a bottle of fruit juice.

He’s never met the guy before, but felt sorry for him, or wanted to make merit (doing good in the hope of getting something good back in return), so took it upon himself to help.

A similar generous spirit motivates his decision to leave Bangkok and move in with his father-in-law in the Northeast.

The ya dong stand will stay open, even if he goes. His mother-in-law, a cleaner who lives opposite the stand, will run it.

She raises two adopted children aged 10, and goes to bed as soon as she gets home from work in mid-evening.

Our ya dong experience won’t be the same; the shop, indeed, may as well close, at least for those of us who are rarely free at that hour, and tend to do our socialising later at night.

What will happen to my relationship with Ball and his family, after carer R leaves for the provinces with his girlfriend?

When I saw Ball last night, he shook my hand enthusiastically, and asked me if I had anything to get off my chest.

‘Are you having fun? Was work OK? We haven’t seen each other for several days,’ he said.

I found a new scar on Ball’s leg. His skin, as I have said before, is so fine that it shows all marks, no matter how small.

‘I burnt my leg on a motorcycle exhaust...it’s nothing,’ he said.

It looked sore, and worried me.

With R’s departure, Ball will have lost a mentor from his life, and I will have lost a friend.