Offering a helping hand

The scene outside Wan's home, in green on the left 

Another worthy cause, or just a waste of money?

I have met a woman in her 50s, grandmother to two boys under 10, and one young woman aged in her late teens.

The girl, Jean, is pregnant and due next month. Her boyfriend, 18 and jobless, also lives with them.

Wan, a small, wiry woman with a tough exterior but a great sense of humour, is head of the household.

She has converted the front of their slum home into a small shop, selling bar-b-que kebabs, Thai deserts, and a Chinese fruit drink. Jean, her pregnant grand-daughter, helps her run shop.

No one else in the household brings in an income, though the boyfriend’s mother gives her a little money to look after her son.

‘The rent is B2500, the electricity and water another B1500. I have to find this myself every month,’ Wan told me within moments of our meeting.

The two-storey house from which Wan runs her shop – she opens the front of her place, which points into the slum alleyway - has a bare wooden floor and contains little else of value. A faded picture hangs on a wall. I have spotted one couch.

A kitchen and run-down toilet at the rear adjoins the main room where the family spends most of its time.

Upstairs is a joint bedroom with no walls. That’s it.

I am getting to know Wan slowly, after I met her through one of the boys.

As I walked into the slum one evening last week, a couple of kids stopped me to show me a lizard climbing up a wall. A man selling sausages on a cart arrived at the same time.

When the kids saw the sausage man, a group of kids crowded around, asking me for money – 5 baht apiece.

‘Order what you like, and I will pay. One sausage stick each,’ I said.

Fifteen minutes of frenetic activity later, I owed the sausage man 55 baht.

I gave another two children B20 each to split up among their friends, though one promptly ran off to a video games shop. That was a poor investment, I thought. In future, I shall have to watch more carefully where the money goes.

I hope none asks where he found the money; the adults in his life may not be amused if he is spending a stranger's money on a computer games habit.

While many of the kids know my name – I pass through the slum daily on my way to the local 7-11, and cash machine - I knew the name of only one of theirs.

I asked one lad to take me back to his place, and that's where I met doughty Wan.

‘Flork says you want to see me. Has he done something wrong?’ Wan asked, referring to the lad who guided me back.

‘Not at all,’ I said.

Wan and I started to talk about her life in the slum, as Flork drifted off to see his mates.

The boys and the girl are the offspring of Wan's three adult children: two daughters, and a son. Each has dumped one child with her. None helps with the cost of their upkeep.

‘My adult children have found new partners, and no longer want the kids,’ she said. ‘They do not send me any financial support.’

‘They obviously love their mum,’ I said facetiously.

Wan laughed.

Wan’s own partner died some years ago, and she has not been able to find anyone else.

The youngest child, Ing, aged seven, does not go to school.

His father took off with another woman along with the boy's birth certificate proving his place of birth. Without that, Ing cannot go to school.  Wan said she lacks an education and feels unable to grapple with officialdom to pursue the paperwork herself.

‘Do you want him?’ Wan was asking me whether I would like to take over responsibility for raising the lad.

Unable to start school without the necessary paperwork, Ing spends his days at home while the older lad goes to the nearby school.  ‘I don’t want him,’ I said honestly.

It is not uncommon for Thais in this area to invite me to take over their child-raising burdens. Sometimes they look as if they mean it.

The other lad, Flork, is aged nine, and loves to study. His mother has also found someone else, and is no longer interested in the offspring of her previous relationship.

‘He goes to a temple school because it’s free,’ Wan said.

‘Sometimes the temple donates his schoolbooks, pens and so on,’ she replied. ‘Otherwise, he goes without.’

The school term is about to begin, and with it come expenses.

She asked me if I wanted to help – Wan is nothing if not forward – and I replied I was willing, as long as he is a hard-working student.

I pondered how to do it. Should I accompany her to the local shops, to buy his uniform and anything else he needs? Or should I just hand over cash?

If I hand over regular payments, untagged to particular expenditure, she will come to expect it. On the other hand, helping this family will give me someone new to worry about, other than my friend Ball and his family who live nearby.

The shop which Wan runs from her place might do better than it looks. But her home is as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, and she could do with the help.

I know a woman down the way with a good head on her shoulders. Ping raises a family of her own, but has better means.

'May I have your phone number? I would like your advice on a matter,’ I asked the other day as I dropped by for a chat.

I will ask my friend Ping what to do. If she thinks they are a cause worth supporting, I shall go ahead.

Ping sells fried sausages and chicken. A couple of doors down from her, another slum household has opened for business.

Its occupants sell food to order, including a flaming Korean bar-b-que, which they deliver to homes in the slum.

The entire alleyway, in fact, is a hive of commercial activity. Here, an internet shop; there, a small games arcade.

Almost every household sells something, which helps keep money circulating, and families in business.

Mobile traders also move through the alleyway pushing carts which offer local produce, including fish, vegetables, and flowers.

Wan also wants some start-up capital to sell noodles from her shop. She used to sell it, but ran out of money to keep the venture going. With the girl’s pregnancy coming to term, household expenses will rise.

Even if I don't help the boy, I might lend her some money so she can rebuild her business. Hopefully, it will provide her with income sufficient to look after her family's needs.