Powdered rice, Good Samaritan chucks it in, 7-11 couple with babe in arms

(file pic from the net - original lost)

Roasted rice, ground into powder, which serves as a thickening agent in northeastern-style Thai dishes, such as laab moo and yum.

Chef Maiyuu makes his own. He puts uncooked rice in a frypan and heats it on a stove. When it has browned, he puts it in the blender to turn it into the powder you see here.

Asked why he doesn’t simply use flour, he said the dish would change if he did.

‘For these Thai dishes, we have to use khaow kua (roasted rice). If we used flour, the dish would turn into something else.’

'Roasted' is a strange choice of word, I know, but it’s what the dictionary gives me.

The difference between ‘roasted’ rice and ordinary ‘fried’ rice is that fried rice has been boiled (khaow suey) before it hits the pan. Roasted rice (khaow kua) is raw rice, thrown on a saucepan with very little oil.

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Reader Lance urges me to take Maiyuu to a dentist, and Ball to a doctor.

We have covered this ground before. I can but encourage these people to see to their own health needs; I can’t force them anywhere.

If Maiyuu wants to see a dentist, he’s welcome. He has more than enough money saved, but has to take the next step himself.

Similarly, if Ball wants to see a doctor, I am sure his family could find a way. His mother spent B10,000 trying to get him to finish secondary school with a leaving qualification - without success, he told us the other night. Ball wasn't interested in studying, so kept bunking class.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way...but if Ball lacks the will to take the next step himself, there’s nothing the rest of us can do to help.

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I bumped in to Ball, his adopted baby sister, and girlfriend at the 7-11.

It was only midday, which was shockingly early for Mr Ball to be up and about.

I was surprised to find him there. It’s not often that I see his pale figure in daylight.

Ball was carrying his baby sister in his arms. His girlfriend, Jay, looked as proud as punch.

Here they were, just like a real husband, wife and doting child out together for a quick jaunt to the local convenience store.

‘What are you doing today?’ I asked.

‘I have no work to do, so will probably spend the day at home,’ he said.

About 11pm, I called carer R. He was manning his ya dong stand.

Mr Ball, and one other regular customer were there. The ya dong had run out, so they had started drinking something else.

R handed the phone straight to Ball, who invited me to call over on my way home from work.

I declined, as I preferred the idea of a quiet hour or two with the boyfriend before bed, rather than in the company of late-night boozers in the slum.

The Little Prince

Young Ball was B100 better off last night, after spending several hours working on a building site.

His mother found him temporary work with a construction gang. They want him to work every Saturday, though the pay is low.

Ball joined a team of casual workers to help lift things at a condo which is going up close to my own.

He is not used to manual work, and looked tired when he joined us at carer R’s ya dong stand about 10pm.

Earlier, I had dropped in to see him. He had just arrived home, and was about to take a shower.

It was to be another hour before he graced us with his presence. A diva needs to prepare herself.

Showering can take Ball an hour; dressing, and applying face moisturiser and so on another 30 minutes.

His audience – carer R, regular customer Na and I – waited, and waited.

By the time he arrived, we were asking aloud: ‘Where’s Ball?’

I had turned up at the ya dong stand two hours earlier. Three or four customers were there, but no Ball.

‘He is working on a building site nearby...he’ll be here later,’ said carer R, who knows everything about our movements.

So, we hung out for Ball... the shining diva of our tattered ya dong stage.

He is just 19, so is the youngest by far. That alone makes him special.

However, with his small body and features as fine as those of a porcelain doll, he also looks different from the average man on the street.

Carer R likens him to a likay folk dancer (watch a likay performer in action via YouTube, here).

‘The lead actor is putting on his fancy dress and his make-up,’ he jokes.

Regular customer Na goes further: he likens him to a little prince (ลูกคุณหนู, or look khun noo), which one Thai-English dictionary defines entertainingly as ‘His Majesty the Baby/King Baby’.

According to Na, Ball’s appearance or demeanour is similar to that of the pampered offspring of rich parents...the type who have hired help to lift heavy objects for them.

It’s beyond their ken to exert themselves physically in any shape or form, as they are just not used to it.

‘I don’t think a lifting job on a building site suits you...tomorrow, I will take you to look for work somewhere else,’ Na told Ball after his belated arrival.

‘An air-con installation company is interested in hiring me as a driver. I will take us places, and you can install the machines,’ suggested Na.

Ball is unusual, in that wrapped inside this body with a beautiful, china-doll exterior is an ordinary, rough-as-guts teen. He denies he behaves like a spoilt child.

It’s just his sensitive looks, like the petals of a rose which is about to burst into bloom.

Last night, Ball held the stage for almost two hours – the most talkative I have seen my young friend in the two months I have known him.

He talked about his girl conquests, including one youngster with Korean-style looks, who met his younger brother first but then decided she preferred Ball instead.

The lads took the girl home – and then took turns with her in bed.

Neither wore protection.

Ball picked up an infection in his member. The result is regular discharges of something unpleasant. Ms Korea, it turns out, was experienced in the sack.

‘You better take something for that...it could get worse,’ suggested Na.

Ball, however, wants to tough it out. ‘It will heal naturally,’ he insists.

That was just last year.

Mum criticised Ball for stealing his younger brother’s girlfriend. Kae, his plain-spoken elder sister, told Ball bluntly he was a cad.

I enjoyed Master Ball’s company. He looked happy, so I felt no need to boost his spirits by offering a neck rub.

He feels guilty about his girlfriend, Jay, who works at a supermarket while Ball himself drinks the nights away, and sleeps late the next day.

‘I started work at the Macro department store, and met her on the first day – how fateful was that?’

‘She accuses me of living off her earnings. She sits up every night waiting for me to get home, and wants to talk. However, I am tired, have drunk too much, and want sleep.

'We fight almost every night. One night I threw a clothes iron at her. It hit the fridge; Mum has yet to forgive me for denting her fridge.

‘This morning I woke to found a note which Jay had left for me on my bed.

‘She’s now had enough, and has asked me to wait until the end of the month. She wants to find somewhere else to live,’ said Ball.

Ball claims he wants to be single again, but I am not sure is he is ready to let her go. We shall see.

Carer R steps in; Hold me tight!

Ball was in need of a massage...so I massaged him.

I haven’t touched my young friend in ages, and it felt good.

Lately we have grown apart, after his mother and her partner asked me to find work for members of his family.

I contacted my employer on their behalf. But after I presented them with the details, they lost interest.

I was annoyed when Ball failed to take up the offer. I felt even angrier after his brother and brother-in-law lost also interest in the idea, when I contacted my company a second time at their request.

I dropped in to carer R’s stand on Sunday night, but barely spoke to Ball. When I visited again last night, I was just as aloof.

Carer R, who knows me well, knew I was upset with Ball and his family.

Towards the end of the night, he asked me what was wrong.

Ball, who had noticed I was ‘not the same’, turned to me.

‘You are with friends. You can tell us your stories,’ he said.

‘You have done nothing wrong,’ I told him quickly.

I forgave Ball weeks ago for spurning my attempts to find him work, and didn’t want to dwell on that, so told him about another matter concerning my family overseas which was worrying me.

Ball listened patiently, and asked questions.

‘So there’s nothing about your life here which is upsetting you?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ I said, half-heartedly.

Carer R, who was listening, chipped in.

‘Actually, there is something, Ball...’ he said. ‘Your family has been using the farang to find work. They asked him to recommend family members for jobs, which was inappropriate,' he added.

‘You should apply yourself. If an employer likes you, he will hire you. If not, you try somewhere else. You don’t try to take shortcuts by asking people to perform favours. It’s just wrong,’ he said.

Carer R told Ball about how his mother and her partner, baleful Lort, had asked me to find work for family members in addition to himself. None were interested, even after I contacted my company repeatedly on their behalf.

The story surprised Ball, who knew few of the details. He apologised.

‘I fight with Lort virtually daily. Don’t listen to a word he says,’ said Ball.

I admired carer R. Days had passed since we last spoke about the job search business. But as my friend, he wanted to say something.

After we cleared the air, I started to relax. Ball was still sore after a recent football game.

I massaged my young friend’s shoulders, legs, and anywhere else he ached, as he and R chatted away, and pointed to the parts of his body which needed work.

Ball looked at my ageing man’s hands, at least twice the size of his own.

I looked at his tiny hands, as fragile as those of a child.

Ball and I are lucky to have our mutual friend, carer R. He knew we were drifting apart, so stepped in to fix the problem.

Ball is just 19. We can forgive his lapses.

‘I am here for you, and you are here for me - when you remember,’ I thought, as I inhaled the scent of Ball’s hair and clothes.

I hugged my young friend. He felt wonderful; he always does.

Doorknobs, floor tiles, spurned job offer

Maiyuu is busy around home. In the last couple of days, he has made a new batch of passionfruit ice-cream, and replaced two door knobs.

He thought he might have to ask the landlord to send her helper to put in the doorknobs, but in the end managed to do it himself.

The doorknob and lock on the front door have been sticky, and were in danger of failing. We now have a new one, in a different style but which looks no less smart. Maiyuu bought it himself.

The doorknob for the door of his bedroom also needed replacing, after he locked himself out a couple of months ago and was forced to remove the old one to get his door open again. The door frame still looks as if someone has been attacking it with a sharp instrument, but he hopes to fix that in time too.

The other day, he also bought some more floor tiles for the sitting room. Laying them has been a job in progress over the last 12 months in which we have lived here, but now is finally coming together.

Almost the whole floor is covered. Next pay day, he might be able to finish the job.

Maiyuu is in great spirits, perhaps because he can see my moods are returning to normal. I am showing more interest in him again.

Today, he tells me he will try making pesto. He has bought his sweet basil leaves, so we’ll see how it goes.
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‘Try to show some support – Ball intends applying for a new job tomorrow,’ said carer R.

I dropped in to his ya dong stand last night, for the first time in days.

Ball was his usual tired and emotional self, shall we say. He didn’t say much, and I couldn’t be bothered talking to him.

R noticed that I had hardly spoken to my young friend. When Ball stepped away, he asked me to show him some support. I pulled a face.

'You must be joking. He won’t apply for any jobs tomorrow in that state, and you know it,’ I said.

After imbibing too much, Ball spends most of the next day asleep.

Earlier in the day, I dropped in to see his mother to ask if any members of her family were planning on working for my company on a piecemeal basis. They had asked me to inquire about the possibility of work on their behalf, which I did. Work was available, but no one has shown any interest in doing it.

‘Ball is thinking about applying for work at the local supermarket again,’ she said. ‘He wants a permanent, full-time job paying about B12,000 a month, and is not really interested anything else,’ she said.

His brother-in law had now found work elsewhere, which of the three who originally expressed an interest left only Ball’s younger brother, Mr B.

‘I will ask Mr B for you,’ said Mum.

I sent her a message last night asking if he was interested. If he is, I will have to contact the man who does the hiring at my company to let him know.

Ball’s mother did not bother replying, so I have now abandoned the matter. I shall not mention it again, as I doubt they were ever serious in the first place.

I also doubt Ball’s prospects of getting work at that supermarket, unless his employer has a short memory. This would be Ball’s third stint working there, after he left two times previously.

Carer R asked why I hadn’t visited him much lately.

‘I have a bad stomach,’ I said, which was true.

‘So you don’t like my ya dong any more,’ he said.

That was true, too. I find it increasingly hard to drink, even when I mix it with water.

The company of the regulars there is also starting to bore me.

I find myself drifting off, no matter who is talking. I have heard the stories before, or would rather listen to something else.

Straight men need encouragement to try new things. Ball responds well to touch, just as well as he does to ya dong. But I’ve been there, done that, and now have lost interest.

Late riser, reader treasures

Boyfriend Maiyuu has invested in a cheap bottle of sherry.

He didn’t know what sherry was, but knew I could probably drink it.

He served a small amount of this foul-looking liquid to me with ice to see what would happen.

I didn’t know what he’d bought, and he didn't say. I gave it a taste.

‘Bitter!’ I said.

‘It’s Spanish,’ he said.

‘It’s better for cooking,’ I said.

I suspect he knew at least that much, or he wouldn’t have bought it.

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At 3pm, I dropped in to Ball’s place. He had just risen for the day, and was wandering around in a flimsy pair of shorts which he wears to bed.

How enchanted are the lives of the young.

I had finished one shift at work, and had another pending. Earlier in the day, I had written a blog post, gone for a run, and a swim. He had slept through all of it.

‘Let me put on a shirt,’ he said, slipping upstairs with the girlfriend, who was back at home for a break from her supermarket job.

They were away a long time, and I was tired of waiting. Instead, I sought out his brother-in-law Tum, who was sitting next in the next room with his young child. Ball’s younger brother, Beer (Mr B), was there too.

‘I have asked my company whether you can get work there as a group,’ I said. 'The answer is yes.'

Previously, I had asked about Ball's prospects if he turned up alone, and taken him to meet the boss. However, Ball wasn't interested.

I explained the details. My company would also be happy to hire him, Ball and Mr B if they turned up as a threesome in search of piecemeal work.

Ball had expressed a desire to work with family or friends, rather than having to spend the day in the company of staff he didn't know. His Mum had asked me if Tum and Mr B could go along too.

‘If you are interested, let me know, and I will tell the man who hires staff. He will call you. If he likes the way you work, he will keep calling,’ I said. ‘Some staff work for us most days.’

I gave him an example of how much money piecemeal workers can earn.

Tum, who has the most magnificent smile and calm manner, looked impressed. However, he probably won’t take up the offer.

When I had entered the place, I had found him talking on the phone.

‘As it happens, the boss of a cosmetics company just called. I applied for a job there a month ago, but someone who was recommended by a friend jumped in ahead of me and took the job instead.

‘They are now interested in taking me on for another position, so I won’t have to look for work anywhere else,’ he said.

That leaves only Ball and Mr B. Given that Ball is not interested in the kind of work offered – too repetitive and boring, he says – the chances of his turning up alone or even with his brother look remote.

He could just tell his younger brother not to bother, and that would be that.

Mr B rarely, if ever talks. I can’t see him standing up to his elder sibling.

I will tell his mother what happened anyway. I can’t see her standing up to her son either...he’s too wilful.

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For readers who haven’t tried it, may I recommend following the comments section. Readers bless me with generous, and for the most part intelligent responses. Thank you.

Your comments make for a much more interesting reading ‘experience’, to borrow the jargon. This blog wouldn’t be half of what it is without you.