Boyfriend revives, dad has second thoughts

Maiyuu has perked up, now that he realises I am devoting more time to him, and less energy to my friends in the slums.

He starts chattering from the moment he gets up, and rarely lets up until night.

That makes a change from recently, when getting anything out of him but for the most rudimentary speech was a struggle. He would make a meal, utter a few words, and retire to the couch in front of the TV, usually to sleep.

Maybe it is true: I really have been a bastard.

Of course, everything could fall apart. He could enter one of his paranoid, neurotic phases (‘People are watching me!), and I could be left wondering why I bothered.

But regardless of how our relationship ends up, I believe that I owe it to myself to change.
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I am tired of taking on the mantle of dad in the slum.

When Ball’s mother asked me the other day if I would care to help her pay for a family motorbike, I realised something was wrong.

‘How about you buy Ball just a bottle of beer a day...and put the rest in a piggy bank, to help me pay for a motorbike?’ she asked.

‘Ball and his girlfriend can use it to get to work every day.’

Mum wants my help paying for the bike because she doesn’t have enough cash to make the repayments herself.

This is despite the fact that she has B100,000 tied up in an informal lending scheme, from which she draws interest.

On top of that, she spent B150,000 buying a pick-up truck months ago, which is still in the care of the ‘authorities’, after her son and a ne’er do well from the slums were caught using it to sell stolen petrol.

Once the truck comes back, why not sell it, and recoup the investment?

As for the motorbike, Mum wants to buy it on tick: no deposit, but monthly repayments of B3,000 a month for two years.

Her eldest son Boy would chip in as well.

When I spoke to her about it last, Mum had just spent the day looking at motorbikes with Mr B.

They were keen on a Yamaha Fino bike, which would complement the other two run by the family to do errands, and get its members to work.

Yet why should I bother?

Mum invites me to take part because she knows I care about Mr Ball’s welfare.

Ball’s response?

‘These are our financial problems, not his,’ said Ball, referring to me. 'Don't bother farang Mali with them.'

Ball is worried that if my money is diverted to helping Mum pay for a motorbike, he will have less to drink.

That’s an understandable reaction. But he also speaks the truth when he urges his mother to sort out these problems herself.