Teerak- My mom is sick and I need money

Introduction

“Teerak, my mom is sick and I need money.” For those who don’t know, “teerak” is the Thai equivalent of “darling”, used for “faan”, a gender-neutral equivalent of boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s no big secret that there is a lot of prostitution in Thailand, although the tabloid media greatly exaggerates the figures. There are plenty of stories of crafty bar girls managing five or six boyfriends at once and coming up with ever more innovative ways to make money. “Teerak, my mom is sick and I need money” is a classic phrase used by farang residents in Thailand to describe these girls.

Perhaps less well known is the culture of the family. The Thai family is the centerpiece of society in ways that many people in the West find difficult to understand. Simply put, the family takes care of each other. If you marry into a Thai family, you are expected to support that family. In practice, however, most Thai women will expect their boyfriend Farang to support the family as well. A man’s “wealth” is therefore a very important factor in choosing a mate. To some this seems very cynical, almost akin to prostitution. This is a huge oversimplification. Thai culture is not Western culture: not necessarily better or worse, just different.

The Beginning: March 25, 2006

He calls me my ex faan (very ex ex). As usual I don’t answer. If I answered every phone call I get, I’d be on the phone 30 hours a day. So look I have an SMS from her. “My dying mom.” Okay, that sounds serious. I call her and 2 hours later I am at the Phatumtani hospital, an hour from the center of Bangkok.

It is a government hospital and I heard bad things about these institutions. But it was clean, the patients were sick but not under-cared for, the staff seemed professional, and the care was pretty good. In that classic Thai way that I really love and admire, all the families of the patients are on site. Everything is very chaotic, but everything in Thailand is chaotic and it’s nice.

In front of us is a very old and very small lady. She must be 80 years old and she is dying. She’s not a big deal. It’s just her time. All of her family is there, working shifts. Her grandson, who I guess is over 35, is on her shift now. You can see right away that caring is not her thing! Yet he is washing her, chasing her, resting her head on her pillow, holding her hand, sleeping on the floor under her bed. In general, he is showing her love and respect for her grandmother. It is a sad but also an exhilarating occasion.

I see this with almost every patient and family member. A cancer patient, on the verge of death, in the care of her sister. A very, very old old woman being cared for and fed by her equally old husband. Small children wandering around. Human trafficking in the best way. We Farang have a lot to learn from the Thais.

Neung, my ex, has cried all the way in the taxi. We arrive and his mom is not good. She looks like she’s had an aneurysm. She is unconscious and the nurses have said to get ready. His sister Ying flew in from Chiang Mai and is there. So the girls do their Thai thing and I settle in for a long day. They wash her mom, talk to her, hold her hand, and cry a lot (of course!). I joke around a bit, I buy food, I buy drinks, etc. And we wait for the doctor. He reaches the flat and begins his rounds, but soon disappears. Someone is dying downstairs. He comes back a couple of hours later. This time he gets very close to us before the phone rings and shuts off again. Another hour passes and he finally reaches us.

The nurses do some pretty horrible things to Neung’s mom, but for the right reasons of course. The doctor takes his time. He is young but he is thorough. The prognosis is not clear. In essence, he’s saying that we just have to wait a few days and see what happens.

Neung starts asking me how he can go be with his mom while she works, how he can pay for the taxi, etc. Little by little we are getting to the point of “teerak, my mom is sick and I need money”. Before he has a chance to make the expected “offer”, his aunt arrives from Chiang Mai, stays for a while, obviously wondering who the hell this farang is, then leaves while giving Neung some money to get it done. expense charge.

And little by little everyone cheers up. Neung even has the “balls” to call the insurance agent about the life policy… “teerak, I need to think about the funeral expenses…”. Go figure!

Neighbors come and neighbors go. Phones are “hot”. It’s good to see people interested. I wish that was the case when it’s my turn to go.

Throughout the day I have wandered up and down the hospital. And it is interesting. I am the only farang there. Nobody speaks a word of English. A boy of about 7 looks at me and says, wide-eyed, “falang” (Thais can’t pronounce the consonant “r” so “farang” comes out as “falang”). The girls in the 7/11 shop look at me and laugh…then ask me if I like Pattaya and if they can go with me! I’m only an hour from Bangkok, but it feels like I’m in a different world.

I could have done without everything. I had to delay a flight back to Switzerland, my home. I’m tired. I have work to do. And obviously I would prefer Neung’s mother to be okay. However, I would not have missed the experience. She showed me some good things about this country. She reaffirmed the family ethic. She showed dignity. I’m glad I was there. I don’t think Neung’s mom will recover, but I think her daughter is starting to adjust. We had not spoken for many months. Maybe this isn’t the best reason to talk again, but it was good to do it anyway.

Follow part 2. original story on [http://www.blog.artthailand.net/?p=14]