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| The view of the slum lane down from Wan's place |
Wan, the grandmother who looked after three children under her roof with virtually no income, moved out of the slum to a new home in Chon Buri a couple of years ago. Wan never returned the sizeable loan I gave her for a noodle venture; as I handed over the cash that fateful day, she gave me a blessing, wishing me the best of health and good fortune, and promptly pocketed the lot.
She had no intention of repaying me, no doubt figuring I could afford to part with money so was in no need of repayment. The loan might have helped get them on their feet temporarily, but her financial problems were to carry on. I would often find her perched on her doorstep after the power company man had paid his monthly visit to cut off her supply.
She was invariably in tears, and wondering aloud whether she would find the money to get it reconnected. She asked me once to help, which I did; the next time I saw her sitting there, some months later, tears again streaming down her face and wringing her hands over the bill, I declined to help and kept walking.
I wish I had taken the same hard-nosed stance towards her and many others in the slum over the years, as I will never see that money again. Once I stopped giving, so did the friendships which my generosity helped forge.
Shortly after her grand-daughter Jean gave birth, the child's teenage father left. He was a temporary fixture in their slum home (she met the lad outside the slum, and he moved in while she was pregnant) and never seemed to do much work.
Jean found a new man a short time later, a former temple boy called Ton. A down-to-earth young man, Ton, 19, wasn't scared of hard work. He took a series of jobs at the local supermarket and the like and eventually managed to save enough to buy a motorbike.
One day I walked into the soi to find him polishing his wheels, a time-honoured ritual for young Thais. "It's the first asset I have ever owned," he said proudly.
I struck up a friendship with Ton. One day I rescued him from the slum home after an argument with Wan (whom he called 'Mum'). I took him back to my place and we played guitar for a few hours until tempers at home had settled down.
He asked to borrow the guitar but I later gave it to him as he loved playing it so much; it was a huge hit among Ton and his mates. I imagine that much-loved guitar made the trip with them to Chon Buri. I haven't contacted them since.
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