Maiyuu's ya dong, Ball's demons

Chef Maiyuu is trying his hand at ya dong. After hearing me talking about my friends at the ya dong stand over the last few months, he felt inspired to try making the drink himself.

I can’t tell you too much about it here – not because it’s a state secret, but because Google will yank the advertising from my page if I mention that dread word which starts with ‘A’, and which most people associate with a good time.

‘My ya dong will also help you sleep, as I added lavender,’ said Maiyuu.

The cheesecloth pouch sticking out of the top of the jug contains the herbal ingredients, which mixed with lao khao (the dreaded ‘A’), give ya dong its distinctive flavour, and supposed medicinal benefits.

Maiyuu whipped it up this morning, after making an early trip to the supermarket to buy ingredients. It will sit on the shelf for the next two days. After that we can try his brew, to see how it turned out.

-
Maiyuu’s pie, which he whipped up the other day, contained dry fruit, oats, almonds, apple, honey, and even a little cream, to help lend it a caramel flavour.

At Maiyuu’s suggestion, I took a couple of slices to Ball’s family last night. Young Mr B answered the door, as his mother the slum lender was doing the rounds of folks in the neighbourhood who owe her money. In the early evening, she visits their homes to collect interest on their debts.

I haven’t asked how much interest she charges. I am sure it’s extortionate.

-
As I write, I am an hour away from a rendezvous at Ball’s place. I have agreed to take him and a woman friend of his mother’s to visit a company in Silom, where Ball will apply for a job.

Ball’s Mum found him the job yesterday. I heard her talking on the phone to her friend Noi, who used to work for the company. They need a security guard, who - in one of the job's few perks - can sit in the company’s air-conditioned office all day.

On the negative side, Ball would be asked to work a 12-day day, for which the company would pay him the princely sum of B350.

Noi visited Ball’s place last night to tell him about the job.

Ball and I were sitting on the living room floor, drinking whisky.

‘If you don’t go, I will have lost face, as the boss will be expecting you,’ she said.

‘Been there, done that,’ I thought to myself.

‘I will go for sure,’ said Ball, who was in good spirits.

I volunteered to take them to Silom, to improve his chances of getting there.

-
Earlier, Ball and I paid a fleeting visit to carer R’s shop, who has yet to be told that Ball is officially off the ya dong wagon.

Ball wants to improve his health and his chances of getting work, which he can only do if he stays off the stuff. He also wants to rebuild his strained relationship with his girlfriend Jay, who is enjoying seeing a new, caring side to Ball.

Where previously he would turn up late after a hard night on the ya dong, now he is at home most nights, and taking care of her as any good boyfriend should.

Last night, he made her fried egg on rice.

Jay is coming down with a cold. After making her dinner, he disappeared upstairs. I heard him rustling about looking for something. A few minutes later, he emerged with three pills for her cold symptoms.

‘You can sleep in Mum’s room,’ he said, banishing his girlfriend from our small drinking circle.

However, he didn’t just leave her there, but visited the ailing patient every 10 minutes or so to see how she was doing.

‘I feel sorry for her,’ Ball said when I remarked on how close the two had become.

‘Ball, you don’t have to explain how you feel – if you love Jay and want to care for her, that's your right. It’s no one else’s business,’ I told him, donning my big brother hat.

Ball is trying to convince himself that he is doing the right thing in quitting the ya dong.

‘I miss it during the day, but have to take this step for the sake of my own future, and my family,’ he said earnestly.

‘I am not hooked on the drink as such...it’s the fun which goes with it. I miss my friends.’

In a moment of weakness, he asked me to take him to R’s ya dong stand.

R welcomed us, and immediately poured us two shot glasses of his malevolent brew.

I left mine. For the first 10 min, Ball managed to ignore his, too.

In a quiet moment, he succumbed, picked up the glass, and tossed the lot back.

I pretended I didn’t see. He sat in silence for another moment, and suddenly left the table.

‘I am just going home to check on Jay,’ he told R.

I was left sitting there, wondering what happened.

Ten minutes later, I headed off in search of him. I found him at home, making a fried egg for Jay.

‘I needed to escape, or I knew I would slip back into my old habits, and end up drinking ya dong all night,’ he said.

‘You’re a brave kid,’ I commended him. ‘If your Mum knew, she’d be proud.’

PS: The underpants made a re-appearance last night.

Dad discovers child is normal, breathes sigh of relief

After a careful examination, I am pleased to report that Ball looks and sounds quite normal.

His Mum’s suggestion the other day that he might not be all there was just mother’s talk, I have concluded.

What a relief!

I visited him twice yesterday: once, for an hour in the afternoon, and again after midnight, when we were joined by his girlfriend Jay and a gay colleague of hers from work.

On the afternoon visit, we sat in his mother’s bedroom, playing with his baby sister, Fresh. Mum was trying to sleep; idle taxi-driver Lort, his mother's partner, was already out to the world.

I watched his behaviour. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wore flimsy cotton shorts, and a T-shirt.

As I played with Fresh, Ball watched TV, flipping between the football, a gameshow, and news coverage about the red shirt protest in Bangkok.

By last night, when I saw him again, he had changed into a new outfit: a matching red top and bottom, decorated with teddy bears, which looked like a pyjama suit.

Moments after I arrived, he excused himself to visit a friend. Still wearing his pyjamas, he wandered outside to see Boy, a regular at carer R’s ya dong stand.

Ball hasn’t been to R’s ya dong stand for the last two nights, and hopes to stay away as long as he can.

‘Relatives on my Dad’s side have pleaded with me to stop,' he said.

‘They say ya dong builds up in the liver and is no good for the body.’

Girlfriend Jay is delighted with Ball’s progress. ‘It’s been two nights so far...he’s doing really well,’ she told me.

Jay turned up with her gay friend from the supermarket.

She excused herself, and changed from her black supermarket outfit into casual gear, including a skimpy pair of shorts.

I detected no signs that Ball was not the full baht, as his mother had suggested. In fact, he behaves like many other teens.

He gives as good as he gets from his girlfriend Jay, who is excitable and talks too much, and enjoys teasing.

He also held his own against Jay’s gay friend Ton, who enjoyed playing up to Ball’s jealous streak.

‘Jay and I are lovers...but only as girlfriends,’ said Ton, hugging Jay to his chest.

Ball pouted.

Jay suggested visiting the local store to replenish the drinks supply, but Ball was having none of it.

‘If you take a step outdoors wearing that revealing outfit, you’ll get a free kick,’ he said.

He was joking, but looked serious. Jay kissed him, and stroked his head for caring.

Holding a cigarette at a jaunty angle, gay Ton turned to me.

‘Do you have any farang friends who can care for me? he asked. ‘How about you...are you free?’

‘He already has an owner,’ said Jay. ‘The farang’s not available.’

I stayed for an hour. Jay and Ball asked me to carry on with them a little longer, but my body had given up.

‘Let Mali go...he’s worked hard, and needs his sleep,’ said Ball protectively. He patted me on the leg.

‘Tomorrow, we can talk,’ he said, giving me a serious look.

Moments earlier, he told me again about how much he wants to change.

‘Drinking ya dong every night, I was starting to feel run-down. Today I played football with friends, and ran around. I felt so much better.’

‘Good boy!’ I enthused.

Ball noticed how happy I felt for him, and smiled.

‘Tomorrow, I will see you at home. We don’t have to visit the ya dong stand,’ I told him.

Spending time with Ball at his place is proving to be much easier than I thought.

I had assumed Jay would be unwelcoming, or that other family members would get in the way.

Far from it. We are enjoying more fun together at his place than ever we did at the nasty ya dong alleyway, with its dogs, garbage collectors, and noisy teens racing about on bikes.

Not the full baht?

The thought hadn’t occurred to me – maybe Mr Ball is not the full baht (tem baht)?

‘He almost died when he was in the womb,’ his Mum said.

‘I had to take many drugs. He survived, but this is how he came out...’

Mum and her elder sister were talking to me about the Young Prince, who had stepped out to pick up his girlfriend Jay from work. I turned up a moment or two after he had left.

‘I am struggling to bring up a family, his sister wants him to find work...but Ball carries on regardless, drinking late and sleeping in, because he is not aware of what is going on,’ she said.

‘He just has no idea, and has been this way since childhood.’

I contemplated these words. I doubt Mum is saying he is not quite all there...he just might be a little slow to gather what people around him are thinking.

Well, I hope that’s what she meant, anyway. If he’s missing a few ticals, I have never noticed.

On the other hand, a sceptic might say, if he was the full quid, baht or whatever, he probably wouldn’t be spending so much time in the company of a middle-aged farang like me.

‘He’s never been a bad lad as such, but is so different from his elder brother, Boy, who worked hard as a student, and is diligent even now as a soldier.'

Earlier in the day, I had dropped in to see Ball. Girlfriend Jay was there too.

I asked him to sit next to me. I rubbed his back for him, wiped sweat off his lip, and pulled his hair away from his face.

He submitted to this manly treatment without any complaint, even though his Mum, aunt and girlfriend were in the same room.

‘Jay is growing more beautiful every day I see her,’ I whispered to Ball.

Jay was sitting on the other side of the room, but still managed to hear me.

‘That’s right, I am!’ she said.

She crossed the room, and squeezed herself into the gap between us.

Ball, unimpressed, tried to shoo his girlfriend upstairs, where she faced the unappealing prospect of sitting alone in their squalid bedroom while the conversation carried on below.

But Jay, who was in good sprits, would not be fobbed off.

She works at a nearby supermarket. This weekend's rally by the red-shirted United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship has been good for business, she said.

‘Customers have been hording food for days. They turn up first thing in the morning, and there are still long queues at the counter at 11pm when we close,’ she said.

Ball loves Jay, despite the bickering.

The other night as we drank at carer R’s stand, I asked after Jay.

‘Just the same...we argue, then make up,’ Ball said.

‘But you love her, right?’

‘Yes...in the same way as ever.’

It was the first time that he had admitted loving the girl, though I always knew he did.

The Little Prince is proud to have her in his life, and no doubt enjoys knowing that someone other than is Mum loves him for who he is.

‘Carer R is moving to the provinces. Do you think we can still see each other?’ I asked Ball.

‘We can meet at home,’ he said.

‘Why do you think I like being with you so much?’ I asked.

‘Maybe you are lonely,’ he said.

‘Do I ever irritate you, wanting to be with you all the time, and touching you as much as I do?’

‘No,’ he said, smiling.

Hopefully, that’s not because he’s missing a few quid, I told myself after listening to his mother's meanderings.

Absent friends, Maiyuu the pretend servant, thirst for new adventure

Maiyuu called last night to say he was spending the night with his friend, Golf.

I rarely see Golf at our place these days, as Maiyuu reckons I was grumpy towards her last time she visited.

She asks irritating questions like:

‘Have you eaten yet?’

And: ‘Maiyuu’s ice-cream/salad/whatever: Is it delicious?’

These questions get in the way of my routines, disrupt my train of thought.

You might think that a simple ‘Yes’ and a Thai-style smile by way of reply would not take long.

But you’d be wrong. For no sooner have I answered one question, than I am presented with another.

After getting sick of being polite, I started to ignore her.

She would ask a question, and I would pretend I hadn’t heard. Or, I’d talk to Maiyuu over the top of her, as if she wasn’t there.

Maiyuu picks up these signals. He knew I was losing my patience with his friend. Worried I would get angry with him if he kept bringing her home, he stopped inviting her.

Now, if he wants to see his friend Golf, he goes outdoors to meet her instead, and leaves this crotchety old man alone at home - which is nothing less than he deserves.

-
I snapped at Maiyuu the other day for giving me odd, quizzical looks.

When he detects I am in a bad mood, he give me worried stares as if he thinks I might blow up at any minute.

To be fair to him, I wasn’t feeling my best. I had hurt my back, and was finding it hard to move about, to do even the simplest things. The constant bolts of pain through my head were testing my patience.

‘What are you staring at?’ I snapped at him.

I apologised later, but Maiyuu was still hurt.

‘Jao nai, I will try to avoid making eye contact with you in future, sir,’ he said sarcastically, using the word in Thai for ‘boss’.

Some days, he would rub it in further, referring to me as a prince, and himself as a slave.

One morning, he pretended to be a Thai servant, attending to his lord.

Maiyuu entered my bedroom on his knees. He shuffled towards my desk, with his head pointing towards the floor.

With both hands, he held above his head a dish of something he had just made - his master’s supper, if you like.

‘I can’t look at you in the eyes, as you’re too important,’ he was trying to say.

Thankfully, Maiyuu has now grown sick of that joke, and life has returned to normal.

I still get the odd quizzical look, as if he is worried I will lose my temper again, but for the most part we are back to treating each other with relative indifference, which is the way it should be - better than fear and loathing, anyway.

-
‘I’ll be out in a moment,’ said Ball.

I had dropped in to see him at his home in the slums, about two hours before I was due to leave for work.

An hour earlier, I had called carer R and Ball, suggesting we meet for a quick drink before I went to the office.

My day at work would be a long one, and I suspected I would not get the chance to meet them otherwise.

I left the slum area and chatted to carer R as he opened his stall nearby.

By the time I left for work an hour later, Ball had still not arrived.

That night, I was to finish work earlier than expected, and did in fact make it back to carer R’s stall before it closed.

We drank for about an hour. This time, Ball was present.

‘Why did you not come out to see us in the afternoon?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t feel up to it...I still felt ill from the night before,’ said Ball.

For me, that’s not good enough. He told me he would follow me out, but apparently had no intention of doing so. He simply went back to bed.

Ball did little else with his life that day but sleep, as far as I can gather.

How self-indulgent and frustrating. No wonder his mother tears her hair out worrying when her son will grow up and take responsibility for his life.

I am getting restless, I notice. With carer R’s pending departure for the provinces, everything is about to change. It might be time to start looking for adventures elsewhere.

Dogs bark, fish flop, Ball gets leg rub, farang contemplates change

Graffiti marks spot where the ya dong stand sat...alleyway leads to Ball's soi

'Put your legs on my knees...I will rub them,’ I told Mr Ball.

He did as he was told.

The soi in which carer R sets up his stand was quiet, but for the sound of dogs barking, and fish flopping about in a bucket across the way.

The stand is in a street where, during the day, traders set up a fresh market, including a fish stall.

By midnight, when I usually arrive, the traders and customers have gone home.

There's just us, the dogs, later-night rubbish collectors, and teenagers passing by on motorbikes.

I asked Ball how his day went.

‘The same as usual...I was at home.’

Next, I asked after his Mum.

‘The same,’ he said.

Mum was no longer angry at him for spurning her efforts to find him a job as a security guard.

Relations with girlfriend Jay were also on a normal footing, meaning he was still arguing with her one moment, making up the next.

I had dropped in to see the Enchanted One after work.

Carer R and he were drinking ya dong alone, as is usual at that time of night. I had called R to say I was coming, so he kept his stall open until I arrived.

I watched Ball’s magnificently expressive face, but tried not to gaze at him too long, in case he felt uncomfortable.

He smiled. He’s used to me by now, after all.

Carer R chatted away in the background as I watched Mr Ball, who was more serious and subdued than the night before.

‘Are you okay? Is anything upsetting you at home?’ I asked.

‘I am fine,’ he insisted, smiling.

I found the burn mark on his right leg, caused by the exhaust pipe of a motorbike he climbed on a few days ago.

It still looks vivid and painful, and shows no sign of going away.

‘All my skin wounds take ages to heal,’ he said.

‘Are you wearing underpants?’ I asked.

I ask him this question every day at the moment, as he knows I don’t like him leaving home with nothing on under his clothes.

‘No...I want him to get some air,’ he said.

He said it matter-of-factly. We talk about most topics these days without the need to make a joke out of anything, or feel embarrassed.

That’s not because we are drawing closer...we probably aren’t. We just can’t see the point in being too serious.

I care for Ball. He likes it. At the end of the night, we go home, in separate directions.

We carry on like this until some emotional drama erupts in his home life. That’s when I can be useful again, as I listen while he unloads.

Carer R is threatening to leave Bangkok next month. His stall will stay, but he will have left for the provinces, to care for his father-in-law.

The stall will close earlier, meaning I will no longer be able to visit Mr Ball there after I finish work.

I would rather not visit him at home at that hour, as it is late.

His girlfriend Jay usually waits up for him to get home from the ya dong stand, so they can go to bed together.

That’s time they are entitled to enjoy together as a couple. Compared to Jay, his girlfriend, I am a mere hanger-on.

I may be good at the caring thing, but I doubt I can compare with her.

So, where are we heading?

Ball’s Mum and I get along well. In fact, I am enjoying my contact with ‘adults’ in his family, such as Mum, her friends, and even her partner Lort.

Still, the changes beckoning at the ya dong stand threaten to upset our relationship. I feel as if my time is running out.

During the day, Ball is often asleep, or I am busy.

I finish work late. If I can’t see him at the ya dong stand after work, when will we meet...only on my days off?