At one time, Pong stood up and went over to the workers. After a short discussion, one of them went to the other side of the lot and accessed a bulldozer. When he started, he was surrounded by a cloud of black smoke. As he approached the building, the workers who had meanwhile been removing the roof, came down from the scaffolding and stood some distance away. Also the workers with the sledgehammers decided to take a break. The bulldozer was on a bee-line to the house. It raised the shovel and rammed the wall. The wall cracked in many places. It went back and drove with more force into the wall again. A cloud of dust was rising. After three or four times the entire length of the wall gave way. The workers with the sledgehammers took care of the fine tuning. Pong came back to the shady tree and was completely satisfied with himself.
After a while only the six cement pillars were left standing–formerly the supports for the walls. They loomed sadly in the cloudless blue sky. Above them, the roof supports lay still and naked. After the bulldozer had knocked over two of the pillars, the roof supports were sliding off to the side. The thick rafters cracked under the heavy tracks of the vehicle. It didn’t take long and the soon-to-be finished house was just a heap of rubble. The foreman told us he would arrange for trucks the next day to get rid of the debris. Pong’s men could grade the place and start with the construction of the villa without delay.
Pong and I said our goodbyes to Som’s mother, who looked satisfied with the destroyed building because of the dream of her new grandiose home.
We wanted to go back to the taxi but it had disappeared. The taxi driver was doubtlessly conspiring with the villagers against the lonesome farang. They would show up with pitchforks and machetes and grant me some education measures. Maybe they called one of the black shirts for help because they had shotguns. There isn’t any transportation like motorcycle taxis in Ban Mueangow. I couldn’t get far on foot.
I became afraid. If Pong was of any help? What should I do?
Pong didn’t want to stand in the sun. In the night it's quite cool in Isaan but if the sun is shining it is unbearably hot. Desert climate. Pong went to a shop which sold noodle soup and asked for something. Then he went around a corner and disappeared.
Slowly I calmed down again. It was quiet. Almost like during a siesta. Nobody was on the road. The villagers were working in their fields or they sought shelter from the heat in their houses. I stood at the crossroad with the five roads and waited.
Suddenly, very far away I saw a cloud of dust, probably swirled up by a vehicle. A while later I heard the noise of a motor bike. It came nearer very fast. The driver must have used the top gear even though he was driving on a gravel road. I looked at the motorcycle because there wasn’t anything else to look at. When it almost reached me the driver turned and rode in my direction. I had to jump to the side to prevent from being hit. The motorcycle turned around several metres behind me and rode again in my direction. The driver, a stocky if not to say beefy type of chap with short black hair didn’t belong to the black shirts because he had a bare chest. Again he missed me by a hair’s breadth. Then he gave up. He stopped and let the bike drop to the side. Furious he trudged in my direction. And now I recognized him. It was Som’s brother Jack with whom I had a Beer Chang and some larp bpla several weeks before. This time he didn’t look like he wanted to invite me for some fish snack. He held in his hand a large, crumbled piece of paper. It was not too difficult to recognize it as one of my flyers. Literally I had carried matters too far. I figured he wanted to talk to his mother about the flyer. Now for Jack, it was no doubt, very convenient for him that I got in his way.
Jack started to shove me. I retreated because I thought better of a physical confrontation. I never had the idea to beat Som up or slap her for what she had done to me. I was a person pulling the levers apart from breaking into Som’s house and my little arson in Peter’s parlour.
“Haed eyang?” Jack screamed. What are you doing?
My heart raced and I took several steps backwards. He followed and shouted at me menacingly. Jack kicked me several times with his foot like a Thai boxer. He aimed at stomach and chest but not between my legs what surely had lead to a quick K.O.-victory for him. I still retreated and we passed a front garden. Next to it were empty beer bottles piled up to a stack. Jack bent over and got hold of a bottle by its neck. Bizarrely, at this moment, I had to think about an English phrase: You could end up on the wrong side of a bottle. Strange what kinds of things are shooting through your head when in an extraordinary situation? Jack started to run, swinging the bottle. No question what he was about to do. I didn’t dare to turn around and show him my back. Maybe he could run faster than me. He was a big chap, but and he had gained from the daily work in the fields, very probably the strength of a bear. That’s why I blocked his blow with my arm. The bottle hit my wrist. Immediately pain beyond description flashed through my arm. The bottle didn’t break. This happens only in movies. Jack hit me again and again I blocked it. My hand became lame. With the instinct of a lefty I had raised my left arm. Now I was as good as hors de combat. I bent down quickly and grabbed a beer bottle with my right and smashed it on a garden fence. With the broken bottle neck I tried to hold Jack in check. He couldn’t know that I was a lefty and almost never used my right hand. I won some of my confidence back while we were slowly moving in a circle, almost skipping.
A cloud of dust was swirling, this time from a car. When it almost reached us, one of the back doors opened and Pong jumped out of the car. It was the taxi. Pong frantically waved in my direction.
Jack turned his head to see what was going on. Attack was the best means of defence. I charged him, cutting open his chest with the broken bottle. Jack started to bleed from several wounds. He howled like a wolf. I used the moment of shock and began to run. I had never run that fast in my whole life. The taxi was only a stones’ throw away but like in a nightmare, space and time expanded. When I reached the vehicle, Pong was already in. I jumped into the car and the driver put the hammer down before I could close the door. The tires were spinning; there was a crunching sound when the gravel whirled to all sides. The car jumped forward. Jack sprang to the taxi like a wild predator and smashed the beer bottle on the windshield. He screamed, ran a couple of metres behind the car. Then back to his motorcycle to chase us.
Jack was amazingly quick, it figures he drove a tricked out bike. I didn’t take long and he caught up with–and tried to overtake us. I told the taxi driver it would also be in his own interest to shake Jack off. After my recommendation we swerved about, to avert Jack from overtaking. But Jack was a good driver. It took a while, but suddenly he was riding next to the taxi. He glared at me and shook his fist. A pick up coming towards us became our saviour. Jack couldn’t stop and turned the handlebars to avoid a head on collision. He sped down the embankment into the reservoir. The water was splashing high on both sides of his bike until it tipped over and disappeared from my view. I turned around and looked out the rear window. Not before we reached the main road to Khon Kaen did I lean back, relax, and wait for my pulse to return to normal. I was sticky from my sweat-soaked clothes and experienced a severe headache. The shock trailed off and it became clear what had been at stake. Jack wanted to murder me, no doubt about it.
Pong tried to inspect my wrist but I resisted. Every touch caused terrible pain. I didn’t think it was broken. It was bruised badly and it would take weeks to use my arm again. Despite my self diagnosis Pong suggested seeing a doctor.
On our way to Khon Kaen I learned that our driver had driven to the huts outside the village with his car. He didn’t spare any efforts for the money I promised him. This was the reason why Jack, who lived in a shack next to a field, got hold of one of the flyers.
I asked the driver to turn on the air conditioner to maximum. I wanted to fly together with Pong to Bangkok in the afternoon and take a bus to Pattaya from there. If I were to miss the last bus, my girls in Soi Nana would cheerfully greet me with open arms with the songs of Siriporn. And I
had to go to Soi Nana anyway to check on whether or not the motorcycle drivers had performed their duties to my satisfaction.
* * *
The next afternoon, a very excited Dao met me in Pattaya at the Skaw Beach Hotel. Tommy, her Australian husband, had cancelled his Thailand trip for financial reasons and Richard, her English boyfriend had his journey spontaneous brought forward. He would arrive in Bangkok the following day. Dao had packed because she wanted to go to Bangkok to pick up Richard from the airport the next morning. She wanted to spend the night with a friend in Bangkok. Dao had waited for me, so we could say our farewells and I could bring her to the bus station. I wanted to do her the favour.
We hugged at the bus station for a last time and wished each other chok dee. Good luck. Dao wanted to go to Phuket with Richard and ask him to marry her. He would certainly agree and Dao could start a new life in England. Far and away from Pattaya. Tommy lacked the financial funds and was left out, as was Mr. Hong Kong, who had let her down in an emergency. She was fed up with Thong. The massage parlour on Third Road was for sale, in the mean time her bodyguard took care of it.
* * *
After I sold my motorcycle I went out at nightfall somewhat wistful for a walk along Beach Road. My hours in Pattaya were numbered because this was my last day in the beach resort. I didn’t want to stay in Pattaya any longer, a city which was full of memories about Som–good ones and bad ones. It could also become dangerous if I didn’t leave town. If Jack was looking for me, he would come to Pattaya. I couldn’t risk crossing his path once again. Concerning Thailand, I also had changed my mind. During my time in England, when I had waited to go to Thailand, I had a different picture from the Land of Smiles which didn’t match reality. My glasses, through which I had seen everything rose-tinted, were brutally snatched from me. Now I just saw the naked truth and Thailand wasn’t one of the countries I wanted to live in. My choice was either Laos or Cambodia. I wanted to engage myself with these countries and then decide which would be my new adopted home.
I called Pong from the beach and said good bye. Again I praised him for his acting abilities. His appearance as an architect and representative of a construction company was so authentic that I almost believed it myself.
I went to Royal Garden Plaza one last time. I remembered Peter’s recommendation and bought at Bookazine Stephen Leather’s Private Dancer and Only 13 by Derek Kent. After that, I went along Beach Road to the north and reached the Hard Rock Hotel. This was where I had met Som after my arrival in Pattaya. It wasn’t even two months ago although it seemed like an eternity. I sat down on one of the stone benches and drank Beer Chang from a can which I had bought in a 7-Eleven store. Nipping on my beer I recalled the past.
I had destroyed Som’s house in Pattaya and mortgaged it. Soon somebody would knock at Som’s door and ask for the payment. Som was looking forward to exorbitantly high bills for water, electricity, land line and mobile phone. Som couldn’t go back to her home in Chaiyaphum to harvest sugar cane because I had told her mother about her alleged income. The greedy old bitch would expel her daughter–at least when she found out that she had ordered the destruction of a brand new house when a big villa was never even planned. There was another reason why Som couldn’t go home any more: I discredited her with the villagers because of the posters which had been spread around the village. The engagement with Eric, her American boyfriend could be looked at as terminated. She had to know as well, that I would find her–wherever she went. She knew I would spare no pain or expense, even if I had to contact a private eye to track her down. She couldn’t work in Pattaya anymore. The whole city was plastered with my posters. There was only one escape. To Bangkok? The red light districts are not very big in Bangkok. There is Patpong and the sois off lower Sukhumvit with Soi Nana and Soi Cowboy at the centre. Som had to assume that I could not only follow her to Bangkok, but also to the islands Phuket and Samui. My flyer activities in Pattaya and Soi Nana were maybe just the beginning. Som would live from now on in constant fear. She couldn’t work, at least not in the lucrative “profession”, she had taken up. No farang would touch her because of the fear of AIDS. No bar and no massage parlour would employ her because the reputation of the establishment was at stake. Even if Som would find a farang boyfriend, he could never ever take her back to his home country for her to could start a new life. I had made sure that she would never step on American, Australian or European soil. My ex-girlfriend was fucked.
* * *
I felt a strange emptiness. For almost one month, I had busied myself obsessively with planning and accomplishing my revenge campaign. It became my raison d’être, I didn’t have time to think about anything else. It would become difficult to switch to something else overnight. Actually I had to continue. I was fixated and decided to go to Bangkok first, to hand out flyers on Soi Cowboy and Patpong. I wanted to recruit staff to glue posters at the walls.
My thoughts were interrupted because my mobile phone was ringing. John. He wanted to meet me in a restaurant He said somebody had recommended the Green Tree on Beach Road and asked if I would agree to have dinner there. I remembered the restaurant as being very lovely and agreed to meet him there.
I drank another beer and started to walk to the restaurant slowly. John had apparently been waiting for me on the seaside of Beach Road. Again we embraced each other when we met.
“What did you do?” he asked and pointed on my bandaged wrist.
“I was embroiled in a brawl. But you should see the other chap,” I added and thought about Jack in the reservoir.
John laughed heartily. However, not about my age-old joke. “What? You just don’t want to admit you were driving your motorcycle drunk and fell off.
Once again I wasn’t believed despite having told the truth.
“Does it hurt? Are you all right?”
“Not too bad.”
“I fell in love,” John said and he suddenly became serious. “Listen, I met a really wonderful girl!”
“I hope she isn’t a bargirl,” I replied coolly considering his sudden surge of emotion.
“No, no. Of course not. She is different.”
John fancied about his new girlfriend and always pointed out how extraordinary the girl was.
“I can understand you quite a bit better now,” he said. “I could give up everything for her.”
“You shouldn’t rush things,” I said without thinking. This took its toll immediately.
“You of all have to say that!” was the enraged reply. “She is just great, believe me. When you meet her, you’ll be delighted.”
It's got him pretty badly. Pattaya changes people, willingly or not. Instead of brining me back home to my wife, John risked his own relationship with his English girlfriend. I let John’s praising for his Thai girlfriend more or less wash over me. If I had given objections, John could have said immediately that I was or could be his inspiring example. I had shown him how to do it but would I admit it? Especially because I was strongly opposed to the idea of returning back to my wife in England. John was in love; he had a real crush on his Thai girlfriend and I could only hope he didn’t have the idea to call her after he returned to England. But again I couldn’t advise him in this matter. I knew how difficult it was to control one’s feelings. And John was much younger than I was. It might be much more difficult at his age. On the other hand I felt happy for him. I hadn’t seen John this joyful for a long time. Then again I had found an ally in my son. He wouldn’t dream of urging me even one more time to go home.
We walked a couple of metres.
“I don’t know how to tell you,” he said.
“Be open with me.”
“It may sound strange but I can't live without her anymore. I think I will marry her, maybe even during my holiday.”
“And your girlfriend? The one in England I mean.”
John waved my comment away. “We had a lot of difficulties in the past. My girlfriend and I want to go to Phuket the day after tomorrow. Wou
ld you like you to come with us? My girlfriend thinks Pattaya is horrible and won’t stay here much longer. Your girlfriend can accompany you of course. Then we would make a wonderful trip with our girlfriends. The four of us. It would be great, right?”
“Why not? I haven’t been to Phuket yet,” I said, and thought about flyers I could hand out at Patong Beach. All roads lead to Phuket, at least it seemed so. First Peter, then Dao and now my son.
“But you can think about the marriage again”, I said with a clean conscience. “The two of you have a relationship–married or not.”
“And there is the problem,” John said. “In Thailand family is very important as far as I know. And there are traditions which have to be followed. My girlfriend is a good girl. I couldn’t forgive myself if she leaves me because I didn’t want to marry her. But if I marry her, she expects a dowry…”
Only now I comprehended. My son asked me for money.
“Let us have dinner first and spend a nice evening together,” I suggested. “Everything else will turn out all right.”
“You think so?” he asked doubtfully.
“Sure,” I said consoling and put my hand on his shoulder. “During dinner you can take your time and tell me how you met your girlfriend, what she is doing and where she comes from. I am very interested, really.”
“You are right. Let’s have dinner first. I am hungry!”
Maybe I should build up some courage and during dinner, tell John about Som, I thought. Tell him about my feelings, about her lies and my revenge. In this case I could advise John to go forward, but with caution. Rushed decisions weren’t to anyone’s advantage. After all, this evening would be the perfect time to talk with John about everything.
We crossed the road and arrived at the restaurant.
A Farang Strikes Back Page 16