The head of the household speaks

'As a man, I have to protect the women of the household. When another man shows up, and I am not there, it doesn't look good,' Ball told me.

‘I don’t like you turning up at our place during the day when I am not there.’

Ball and I were having one of our little talks. They usually start when we are about half-way down a bottle of the brown stuff.

I met Ball, his Mum and her partner Lord in the slum last night. We drank at a neighbour’s place.

Our host is a big woman who makes her own ya dong brew, and owns a large stereo. While she and Mum sang karaoke, Ball and I talked.

‘I know you are trying to help me, but Mum and I will battle on together no matter what happens. She is the mainstay of my life. Mum does everything for us – she has 10 mouths to feed every day,’ he said.

‘I admire your Mum,’ I said. ‘That’s one reason I like to visit her.’

Earlier that day, I gave Mum B400 to buy a new uniform for Ball to wear to work. He is a security guard in Silom.

He has only one, but must wear it to work every day.

I like giving money for useful things, such as his uniform. That money was originally intended for a new watch, which he also needs, but he suggested to his Mum that it would be better spent on a uniform.

Ball’s friends in the slum initially teased him when they saw me visiting his home.

‘They asked if I was living off you...if I had tricked you into giving me money,’ he said.

‘People around here get jealous...everyone is trying to up himself. They see me with a farang, and feel resentful,’ he said.

How touching. The fact that I am twice Ball’s age and might have exploited him, rather than fallen a victim to Ball’s own scheming, doesn’t appear to have occurred to them.

‘I may be small, but I can stand my ground. I told them I don’t like that kind of talk, and that you were my friend. Since then they have stopped teasing. I think they understand me now,’ he said, while adding that I should try to keep a low profile when visiting his place.

I told Ball that I hoped he would persevere with Jay, his girlfriend.

‘I feel sorry for her, and don’t want to throw her out, as she would be alone,’ he said.

I asked Ball if he can distinguish between pity and love. He says he can.

‘I know you feel sorry for the girl, and maintain you don’t really love her – but I have seen you together, and know it’s not true. I think you make a good couple,’ I told him.

Jay is in the family’s bad books after lending most of her most recent pay packet to her elder brother, a fourth-year university student. He has a girlfriend and a child, but can’t support himself financially.

After helping her brother, Jay had nothing left to give to Mum. She feeds the girl every day, pays for the food and groceries, and petrol to get her to work and back...

‘Running this household costs more than B1000 a day,’ Mum told me the other day.

Ball might have to wait until the end of this month before he gets his first pay. His elder sister Kae and her boyfriend contribute to the household's income, and his elder brother, a soldier, sends money home. But it is not enough.

When I dropped in to see Mum earlier yesterday, she had just won B400 on a board game. She spent a chunk of it buying beer for her son.

Ball feels guilty about his father’s death a few years ago. He says he has never made merit for his Dad on his father’s birthday, which he regards as a sin. I have told him that on his own birthday this year, we shall make merit for his father together.

Last night did have its lighter moments. Ball told me about how his younger brother, Mr B, once entered the monkhood to honour his father.

‘He shaved his head, and looked so cute. I stole a look around to see if any of our relatives were watching, and gave him a playful whack on his bald head.

‘We are supposed to treat monks with respect, even when they come from our own family. ''That's a sin," B replied. He was right.'

Mr Ball sees himself as the head of the household. Dealing with the problems which life throws at him - and he has more than his share - is part of being a man.

I admire his courage the most, and the way he is so determined to grow up as a young man worthy of his mother's love and respect.

About 3am, his girlfriend called, and Ball took advantage of the opportunity to flee our drinking circle. He did not say his goodbyes, but I knew when he left us that he would not return.

At Mum’s request, I grabbed my shoes and went after him.

By the time I arrived, his home was closed, the alleyway outside his place empty. I called his number, and he came to the door.

Ball, who had been awake since 6am the previous day, looked shattered, but still managed to put on a smile. He’s the man of the household, after all.

‘Forgive me for adding to your problems, but I am not ready to walk out of your life,’ I said. ‘Good night.’