I guess we grow close to the end of this little saga, we have almost caught up to the present day . We saw 2011 come in, in Australia. We had returned for Christmas, Christmas in Australia had sent me broke. I thought about getting a job to tied us over the dry season, but there was little in the way of work, and we all missed the village. I sold my last possession, the car to get the air fare home. We lived frugally until the rains came, selling our first sheet rubber in June. Most of the money was owed, for fertilizer and loans, but we survived. Next week we sell again and there will be money left.
This year we have 8 workers and 2 of their wives help out. The factory grinds along, making a few thousand Baht profit per month. We just don't have the money to buy big yet, there is always next year. The house still needs work, but nothing major, things will come in there own good time. To most people, who have lived by the clock all their lives, my days would be boring. I get up when it is to warm to sleep, read books when I can fined any, play on the computer and browse the internet, when I have a signal. Once a day I ride or drive to the factory to feed the dogs. When the heat gets to much we take the kids to a small water fall, not far from the village for a swim. Each evening I sit out front watching our 2 kids play in the little street or under the neighbors stilt house, with the other village kids, usually with a cold beer in my hand. We eat, the kids watch a video and the women watch Thai soap operas, another day has has ended. When I sleep there are no bad dreams or nightmares. When money permits we head to Ubon or a small resort near the meeting of the Mun and Mekong rivers, for a few days. Sometimes we have visitors from the west, which adds a bit of variety to the week. Life is simple, the days come and go, our children play as children should, not locked indoors. If the world outside ended tomorrow, I would not care, we have chickens, ducks and a fish pond, we have land for rice, we will not starve. When my kids grow there will be more than enough money from the lumber from the rubber trees to put them through any University they care to attend. For me this is my Shangri-la, my lost horizon.
Thank you for reading this blog, I will update it when things happen, which is not likely to be too often. If one day I get access to reasonable inter net I will up load some pictures. So it is bye for now. Jim
Friday, July 15, 2011
Bandits, Junkies and Rambo
During the time of house building and car buying, rumors of rubber, motorbike thefts and armed robbery's had been circulating around the area. I seldom took much notice of village tales as they always seemed to be blown out of proportion or happened 20 plus years ago. Yet there was more than usual, story's of bandits crossing over from Lao had become common. There is no shortage of dodgy characters up here, just as in the city. Petty thieves, stealing cup rubber from unwatched plantations. Isolated houses burgled while the owners were at the rice fields. Even my nearest English neighbor had caught a teenager trying to steal from his house. Then one day a Thai rubber farmer chanced upon a group stealing his rubber. he was armed. As he approached, someone in the group fired at him. A short exchange of gun fire ensued and the group fled. One of the thieves had been wounded, there was a blood trail to where they had parked their motorbikes.
There is no shortage of weapons around theses parts. The border war with the Vietnamese in Cambodia and communist insurgents aided by the PDR of Lao had only finish in 1985. The Thais had given weapons to villages to protect themselves and the other side had armed local communist sympathizers. Many of these weapons are still out there.
We live in a village, everyone watches out for everyone else, strangers stand out, but even to this day the village heads and some Government employees are issued with rifles. The father in-law is one. At rice harvesting time the villagers desert their homes and the families go and live in the rice fields, until all the rice has been harvested. At these times the village heads etc are supposed to patrol around to keep away thieves. Not that you are likely to see one walking a beat late at night. It is the jungle after all and this has been a lawless area for as long as people have lived here. Only recently have marked police patrols come this far, this is border soldiers country.
The factory was broken into one night, $500 worth of rubber had been stolen. We had the brother in-law and his wife staying there, but when he went to tap rubber he would bring his wife here for the night. It was on such a night that they came. I got the family and the tappers all together, to see what we could do. The story of bandits from Lao had scared them, none wanted to stay alone at the factory.
Later I got more of the truth as to what was happening. Seems that the bandits from Lao numbered 3, one of which was a Thai, wanted by the police. He had fled over to some cousins across the border and they were drug smugglers. Meths amphetamines, speed or yabba as it's called in Thailand. They would bring the drugs over to the Thai guys old village, which is deep in the jungle and sell. Word had got around of this abundance of cheap yabba and junkies from around the district had headed there to buy. Like anywhere in the world your average junkie has to steal to get the money. Where better to steal than near your supply, no travel involved and less chance of getting caught by the police. The police were powerless to do much, if they went in mob handed the junkies just melted into the jungle. The police are neither trained nor equipped to chase bad guys through the jungle and I am sure they were reluctant to do so encase the bad boys had a load of AK 47 assault rifles waiting.
A bunch of junkies were not going to be stealing my rubber, so I moved to the factory. On the first night the wife and father dropped me off, the father showed me a cupboard, inside was a muzzele loading bird rife. It was something Davey Crocket would have carried, except that it was for birds and was less than a 22 caliber. I looked at the wife and said one shot, then what, beat them about the head with it, I thought theses guys were all armed and afraid of nothing. She smiled and said, everyone has seen Rambo 4, no one would dare to rob the place, while you are here. I lasted 5 days, my back was broke from sleeping on a mat and I was bored. Grabbed the wife and kids. We all went to Ubon for the weekend, that night the factory was robbed again, they had been watching.
There was no way I was going to take up permanent residents in the factory. CCTV was the only answer, 15,000 Baht $500 I had a state of the art video surveillance system. It was installed the following Tuesday along with some sensor lights. I told everyone , that not only would it record anyone coming into the factory, but it was inter net linked and could be watched from any where in the world. We caught our first thief 2 weeks later. He wasn't stealing our rubber, but selling stolen rubber. The owner of the rubber came to see all the rubber buyers in the area, to see if anyone had sold some sheet. He identified his rubber . The police were called and a memory stick with the video was handed over. The man was arrested and given 12 months in the monkey house. The bad guys who weren't afraid of anything were afraid of prison. Word spread about the cameras and we have never had a problem since. As for the 3 bandits from Lao. I am told , but can't say how true it is. As I said earlier village storys go round, that they came to some is misfortune in i the jungle. Either way they have not been see since.
There is no shortage of weapons around theses parts. The border war with the Vietnamese in Cambodia and communist insurgents aided by the PDR of Lao had only finish in 1985. The Thais had given weapons to villages to protect themselves and the other side had armed local communist sympathizers. Many of these weapons are still out there.
We live in a village, everyone watches out for everyone else, strangers stand out, but even to this day the village heads and some Government employees are issued with rifles. The father in-law is one. At rice harvesting time the villagers desert their homes and the families go and live in the rice fields, until all the rice has been harvested. At these times the village heads etc are supposed to patrol around to keep away thieves. Not that you are likely to see one walking a beat late at night. It is the jungle after all and this has been a lawless area for as long as people have lived here. Only recently have marked police patrols come this far, this is border soldiers country.
The factory was broken into one night, $500 worth of rubber had been stolen. We had the brother in-law and his wife staying there, but when he went to tap rubber he would bring his wife here for the night. It was on such a night that they came. I got the family and the tappers all together, to see what we could do. The story of bandits from Lao had scared them, none wanted to stay alone at the factory.
Later I got more of the truth as to what was happening. Seems that the bandits from Lao numbered 3, one of which was a Thai, wanted by the police. He had fled over to some cousins across the border and they were drug smugglers. Meths amphetamines, speed or yabba as it's called in Thailand. They would bring the drugs over to the Thai guys old village, which is deep in the jungle and sell. Word had got around of this abundance of cheap yabba and junkies from around the district had headed there to buy. Like anywhere in the world your average junkie has to steal to get the money. Where better to steal than near your supply, no travel involved and less chance of getting caught by the police. The police were powerless to do much, if they went in mob handed the junkies just melted into the jungle. The police are neither trained nor equipped to chase bad guys through the jungle and I am sure they were reluctant to do so encase the bad boys had a load of AK 47 assault rifles waiting.
A bunch of junkies were not going to be stealing my rubber, so I moved to the factory. On the first night the wife and father dropped me off, the father showed me a cupboard, inside was a muzzele loading bird rife. It was something Davey Crocket would have carried, except that it was for birds and was less than a 22 caliber. I looked at the wife and said one shot, then what, beat them about the head with it, I thought theses guys were all armed and afraid of nothing. She smiled and said, everyone has seen Rambo 4, no one would dare to rob the place, while you are here. I lasted 5 days, my back was broke from sleeping on a mat and I was bored. Grabbed the wife and kids. We all went to Ubon for the weekend, that night the factory was robbed again, they had been watching.
There was no way I was going to take up permanent residents in the factory. CCTV was the only answer, 15,000 Baht $500 I had a state of the art video surveillance system. It was installed the following Tuesday along with some sensor lights. I told everyone , that not only would it record anyone coming into the factory, but it was inter net linked and could be watched from any where in the world. We caught our first thief 2 weeks later. He wasn't stealing our rubber, but selling stolen rubber. The owner of the rubber came to see all the rubber buyers in the area, to see if anyone had sold some sheet. He identified his rubber . The police were called and a memory stick with the video was handed over. The man was arrested and given 12 months in the monkey house. The bad guys who weren't afraid of anything were afraid of prison. Word spread about the cameras and we have never had a problem since. As for the 3 bandits from Lao. I am told , but can't say how true it is. As I said earlier village storys go round, that they came to some is misfortune in i the jungle. Either way they have not been see since.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Cars, money and houses
Day's passed, rubber flowed, the price was good and to my delight the trees produced more than I could have hoped. Still money was tight, there were so may things that we needed. We needed to extend the house, the concrete block bedroom was a nightmare with the 2 little ones sleeping with us. Also there were dangers. The original house had been built 20 plus years earlier, before the concrete road. The house was half a meter below street level. This had no effect on the neighbors stilt huts, they just raised the soil under their hut. Now our house was damp and prone to minor flooding during heavy rain. The dampness brought bugs, which brought frogs and they brought scorpions. Sooner or later one of the kids would be stung.
It was decide to sell the smallest plantation, I hated the idea of losing 600 plus trees, but the kids needed a bedroom and we needed another car. The pick up truck had been fine with only the wife and I, but was no family sedan.
The Car.
To most westerners, food, shelter and in my case, closely followed by beer, are the prime requirements of life. Cars are a necessity for some and a luxury for others. To a jungle dwelling Thai the car is, the be all and end all of status. They will hock their kidneys for one. With the coming of rubber to the village, the first thing a man would buy, with his new found wealth, was the biggest twin cab pickup truck that the bank would allow. Most could not even drive and would need a friend who could, to bring it back. Where once water buffalo slept under the house a new silver Toyota, or Mitsubishi took pride of place. To make the payments they would live, as they had before the coming of rubber money. A village up the road with 400 homes bought 70 brand new pick ups last year alone. When I said we were going to buy a new car smiles of joy filled the family.
A car to me is just a means of transport and what we needed was a vehicle to take the kids and wife to town shopping, for moving big things the pick up truck was there. When I announced that we were going to buy a little city hatchback for shopping. They had low repayments and were cheap to run. The mother began to cry and the fathers head hung in shame, better to buy nothing, than the smallest car in the village. We were rich and needed the biggest and best. The shame of it all. Over the next week or so , everywhere I sat was a brochure, pamphlet, advertising twin cab trucks. This was one I would not win. 2 weeks later we went to town and bought a big black 7 seat Pajero SUV. No one in the village had an SUV, all were happy. As is the way, you have to throw a party for the new car. The car must be driven straight home and not leave the house for 24 hours. Monks must come and scribble spells all over it. Everyone who comes to look, ties white string on to something and gives their blessings. I would be allowed to buy a small car now, or in 6 years when we had finished paying of this beast.
House ,let the building begin.
Most westerners and rich Thais seem to build big square western looking houses. On the Thai side it is a belief that western is best. On the Farang side, it is the big house back home, that they could never afford. I had lived here long enough to know that the only time spent inside was watching TV or sleeping. Shaded patios and open areas were the go. A simple plan was drawn up, 2 bedrooms, a large bathroom attached to the in-laws shack by a tiled floor and roofed area. We had build the soil level up the previous year. A local village builder was hired. Builders here are hired by the job, they quote to put up the poles, then quote to pour the concrete etc. They had only started work when the wife decided the main bedroom was to small and she double the size, more poles and concrete. After the builders were paid for the jobs done, they disappeared for a week. Eating and drinking until the money was gone. This would be a regular occurrence over the 5 or 6 months they were here.
The Aunt who had raised the wife near Bangkok, turned up one day. She had decided to move in with us. The Aunt had never been married, had no children and looked on Bell as her daughter and our kids as her grandchildren. I couldn't say no and another bedroom was added. We had got to the painting stage. When all brushes were down and more poles, roof titles, bricks and concrete arrived. The father had decided that a big back veranda was needed. He would pay, which in Thai means he will pay now and when we have the money we pay him back. At this time I said NO MORE, that's it. I was wrong of course.
The brother in-law had moved up from Krabi with his wife. The wife's family are big time rubber and palm oil planters, as well as land and building owners in Krabi town. Not poor, rich by western standards. The brother knew rubber, but wanted to come back home. I gave him the job as my head foreman and they had moved into the factory office. The family had pledged to give her 5 Million Baht, when they produced their first grandchild. She was pregnant and the office was no place for a baby. A house was needed, the family agreed to sent up the money to build, simple. Not in rural Thailand it is not, the monk, shaman or house building witch doctor must be consulted first. 2011 [2554 Buddha] was a bad luck year for them to build, 2012 would bring a happy house. Brother approaches sister, my wife, explains the dilemma and can he build another bedroom on to our house. He will pay and I will not have to pay him back, it was only for the year. Now I am not going to say no to an offer like that. Builders are back, not to made a bedroom, but a bed sit, bedroom with small lounge area.
What had started as a 2 bedroom hut now looked more like a 6 bedroom motel, but I did get my hot shower.
It was decide to sell the smallest plantation, I hated the idea of losing 600 plus trees, but the kids needed a bedroom and we needed another car. The pick up truck had been fine with only the wife and I, but was no family sedan.
The Car.
To most westerners, food, shelter and in my case, closely followed by beer, are the prime requirements of life. Cars are a necessity for some and a luxury for others. To a jungle dwelling Thai the car is, the be all and end all of status. They will hock their kidneys for one. With the coming of rubber to the village, the first thing a man would buy, with his new found wealth, was the biggest twin cab pickup truck that the bank would allow. Most could not even drive and would need a friend who could, to bring it back. Where once water buffalo slept under the house a new silver Toyota, or Mitsubishi took pride of place. To make the payments they would live, as they had before the coming of rubber money. A village up the road with 400 homes bought 70 brand new pick ups last year alone. When I said we were going to buy a new car smiles of joy filled the family.
A car to me is just a means of transport and what we needed was a vehicle to take the kids and wife to town shopping, for moving big things the pick up truck was there. When I announced that we were going to buy a little city hatchback for shopping. They had low repayments and were cheap to run. The mother began to cry and the fathers head hung in shame, better to buy nothing, than the smallest car in the village. We were rich and needed the biggest and best. The shame of it all. Over the next week or so , everywhere I sat was a brochure, pamphlet, advertising twin cab trucks. This was one I would not win. 2 weeks later we went to town and bought a big black 7 seat Pajero SUV. No one in the village had an SUV, all were happy. As is the way, you have to throw a party for the new car. The car must be driven straight home and not leave the house for 24 hours. Monks must come and scribble spells all over it. Everyone who comes to look, ties white string on to something and gives their blessings. I would be allowed to buy a small car now, or in 6 years when we had finished paying of this beast.
House ,let the building begin.
Most westerners and rich Thais seem to build big square western looking houses. On the Thai side it is a belief that western is best. On the Farang side, it is the big house back home, that they could never afford. I had lived here long enough to know that the only time spent inside was watching TV or sleeping. Shaded patios and open areas were the go. A simple plan was drawn up, 2 bedrooms, a large bathroom attached to the in-laws shack by a tiled floor and roofed area. We had build the soil level up the previous year. A local village builder was hired. Builders here are hired by the job, they quote to put up the poles, then quote to pour the concrete etc. They had only started work when the wife decided the main bedroom was to small and she double the size, more poles and concrete. After the builders were paid for the jobs done, they disappeared for a week. Eating and drinking until the money was gone. This would be a regular occurrence over the 5 or 6 months they were here.
The Aunt who had raised the wife near Bangkok, turned up one day. She had decided to move in with us. The Aunt had never been married, had no children and looked on Bell as her daughter and our kids as her grandchildren. I couldn't say no and another bedroom was added. We had got to the painting stage. When all brushes were down and more poles, roof titles, bricks and concrete arrived. The father had decided that a big back veranda was needed. He would pay, which in Thai means he will pay now and when we have the money we pay him back. At this time I said NO MORE, that's it. I was wrong of course.
The brother in-law had moved up from Krabi with his wife. The wife's family are big time rubber and palm oil planters, as well as land and building owners in Krabi town. Not poor, rich by western standards. The brother knew rubber, but wanted to come back home. I gave him the job as my head foreman and they had moved into the factory office. The family had pledged to give her 5 Million Baht, when they produced their first grandchild. She was pregnant and the office was no place for a baby. A house was needed, the family agreed to sent up the money to build, simple. Not in rural Thailand it is not, the monk, shaman or house building witch doctor must be consulted first. 2011 [2554 Buddha] was a bad luck year for them to build, 2012 would bring a happy house. Brother approaches sister, my wife, explains the dilemma and can he build another bedroom on to our house. He will pay and I will not have to pay him back, it was only for the year. Now I am not going to say no to an offer like that. Builders are back, not to made a bedroom, but a bed sit, bedroom with small lounge area.
What had started as a 2 bedroom hut now looked more like a 6 bedroom motel, but I did get my hot shower.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The last days and a new begining
Christmas came and went, it would be the last Christmas eve I would spend guarding prisoners, instead of playing with my children. The factory had ground to a halt weeks after our return to Australia. The father in-law just could not get to grips with the whole idea of buying rubber for less than we sold it. I had expected the worst, he had only lost $1,000, by paying too much or buying bad rubber. then he gave up. The trees we had opened were doing well, though the dormant period was fast approaching. The results were promising , I had calculated that next season we would have 3,000 trees ready to produce. It would be enough to live, time to prepare for our escape.
In Australia they have a thing called long service leave, after 10 years you are entitled to 3 months paid leave. Now I had lost most of my service by resigning the last time, but while trying to stay awake one lonely night shift, I found a clause in the employment agreement that said, I could be credited previous service. Including the time spent as a casual Prison Officer. It was like winning the lottery, money to leave. On the next day shift I spent most of my time filling in forms, sending e mails and making phone calls. It would take 2 months before the leave was credited to my service. On that day the first rains fell on the plantations, awakening the trees. I typed up my resignation and submitted it. It was made very clear to me by the big boss that if I went again, there would be no coming back. Too late for second thoughts , there would be no more prisons in my life, unless I ended up a prisoner.
One month later I spent the day saying goodbye to my co workers, handed in my ID and some uniforms. I was no longer one of the boys and had to be escorted out the door. Some people believe that they will be missed or the work they do is noticed. I have found that once you walk out the door, it is just like taking your arm out of a bucket of water, that's the impression you leave, nothing. The water just fills in the hole, as if you had never been there. We were on the plane one week later. cashed up and ready for a new begining.
Home, if you can call a 3 room hut, home. We were still living in the in-laws up market shack. there was now runing water, but still a cold shower. Our bedroom was a concrete block, with a flat tin roof. When the sun rose in the mornimg the heat was unbearable and you had to move outside to a hammock. Things would have to improve, but time is different here, it would all happen in Thai time.
On the first night back I sat outside drinking beer from an ice box. The village had changed, there was the flicker of TVs, more concrete block houses and cars. Rubber had brought money, the village was no longer a place that time had passed by.
As you do when you sit alone drinking beer, I pondered life. It was 2010 I was now 53 years old, with 2 young kids and my working life was over. As long as the rubber flowed, the wifes would never begin. 8 plus years had passed in the twinkling of an eye. Bell had been stoic through it all. Never once did she complain that we lived in a hut in Thailand, nor that all her friends in Australia lived in big houses and drove new cars, I had been lucky. I thought of all those people who adivsed never spent more in Thailand than you can affort to lose. I couldn't afford to lose anything, but invested everything. We had made it, now there would be time to play with the kids, time to swim, picnic and enjoy living. We were far from rich, but there would be money enough for food and beer, life was good. As often happens , I had turned a page and a new chapter began.
In Australia they have a thing called long service leave, after 10 years you are entitled to 3 months paid leave. Now I had lost most of my service by resigning the last time, but while trying to stay awake one lonely night shift, I found a clause in the employment agreement that said, I could be credited previous service. Including the time spent as a casual Prison Officer. It was like winning the lottery, money to leave. On the next day shift I spent most of my time filling in forms, sending e mails and making phone calls. It would take 2 months before the leave was credited to my service. On that day the first rains fell on the plantations, awakening the trees. I typed up my resignation and submitted it. It was made very clear to me by the big boss that if I went again, there would be no coming back. Too late for second thoughts , there would be no more prisons in my life, unless I ended up a prisoner.
One month later I spent the day saying goodbye to my co workers, handed in my ID and some uniforms. I was no longer one of the boys and had to be escorted out the door. Some people believe that they will be missed or the work they do is noticed. I have found that once you walk out the door, it is just like taking your arm out of a bucket of water, that's the impression you leave, nothing. The water just fills in the hole, as if you had never been there. We were on the plane one week later. cashed up and ready for a new begining.
Home, if you can call a 3 room hut, home. We were still living in the in-laws up market shack. there was now runing water, but still a cold shower. Our bedroom was a concrete block, with a flat tin roof. When the sun rose in the mornimg the heat was unbearable and you had to move outside to a hammock. Things would have to improve, but time is different here, it would all happen in Thai time.
On the first night back I sat outside drinking beer from an ice box. The village had changed, there was the flicker of TVs, more concrete block houses and cars. Rubber had brought money, the village was no longer a place that time had passed by.
As you do when you sit alone drinking beer, I pondered life. It was 2010 I was now 53 years old, with 2 young kids and my working life was over. As long as the rubber flowed, the wifes would never begin. 8 plus years had passed in the twinkling of an eye. Bell had been stoic through it all. Never once did she complain that we lived in a hut in Thailand, nor that all her friends in Australia lived in big houses and drove new cars, I had been lucky. I thought of all those people who adivsed never spent more in Thailand than you can affort to lose. I couldn't afford to lose anything, but invested everything. We had made it, now there would be time to play with the kids, time to swim, picnic and enjoy living. We were far from rich, but there would be money enough for food and beer, life was good. As often happens , I had turned a page and a new chapter began.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Awards and Blessings
There was nothing I could do, but except that I was stuck in jail, like it or lump it. Now there are many bitter and twisted public servants who know, what they do today, will be the same tomorrow and the next day for ever more. They are not going up, but just filling in the days. Some go into complaining mode, others like me just drift into the shadows, do their jobs, nothing more or less than needed, go home and pick up their pay. Strangely enough I must have seemed very happy with the place. I have always been easy going and a fairly cheerful type of guy.
The powers that be had set up one of these staff awards, the 12 virtues of Christmas or some such crap. One morning in front of about 10 other staff a Uniformed raking shrink comes over to me, to say that I had been nominated for a staff morale award. The smiling idiot award or something. I looked at her in amazement and said, if I am the best you have, , you have one hell of a staff morale problem. Needless to say I never received an award and my name was removed from the nominations list.
The days went by and the new baby was born, Alexandra. Rubber prices where on the up, there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel. After Alex was 6 months old and had had her vaccinations I concocted a story of village Christenings, Buddha monks and introductions to jungle spirits., I was allowed 3 months leave. With the now 2 baby family assistance , we would be fine for money. We were on the plane back once more.
Though happy to be back in the village, I was less than happy with the state of the factory. The weeds had taken over, the road side signs were gone, the gates were locked and the radio commercial had been canceled. This is where village, Issan logic and western logic are on 2 different plans. To the Thais why would you spend 50 Baht a year for each road side sign when they could be used for roofing on the plantation huts, what was the point of a radio commercial when the gates were locked and why cut the grass if there was on one there. No one was selling rubber to the factory, so why bother. I tried to explain that no one was selling rubber to us, as the factory looked abandoned and there was no one there to buy, if anyone did come, but to no avail. We would just have to start again, another party to re open.
A party was arranged, the grass cut, some fresh paint and general tidy up done. This was to be ,not only a new opening of the factory, but a blessing from the monks for the kids. Now in Buddha monk terms 7 monks is good, 9 is better, but for a heathen white man that would be 15. Not only 15 monks, but a afternoon session and the next morning another blessing. The women arrived and a mountain of food was prepared, the younger lads drank Lao Khow [rice whiskey] and I drank beer and Johnny Walker. The monks arrived, set up in the office and the blessings began, By now the beer and whiskey was starting to have an effect, but I managed to do my bit of crawling around the office putting envelopes with 500 Baht into each monks bowl, then getting my blessing. After much chanting and sprinkling of water the monks packed up and left. More booze flowed and food was eaten. Night came and the guests began to leave. By now I am well and truly pissed, but through the blur of alcohol, I noted that the guests were taking all the food home. I said to the wife they are stealing all the food. No she said, that is how it is done, all the food is given to the guests to take home. We had a young cow butchered for this and I hadn't even got a hamburger out of it. Those with more stamina stayed, drinking and playing cards, I returned to the beer and whiskey.
Next morning I awoke on the bench seat of the pick up truck, to the sound of the monks chanting. The women were preparing more food, the card players were still playing and drinking. Looking at all the empty beer bottles and half empty whiskey bottle I decided that I had had enough blessing for this life and cracked another beer. The monks left, the Lao Khow began to flow and food was eaten. By 10 am it was all over and the guests left with all the food and I started on the whiskey.
We were back, open for business, but business was slow and I didn't have time on my side, we would be on the plane back within a month. We opened some of our bigger trees to see how they would go and make some money to help with the fertilzer bill. That was about all I could do this trip. Before I knew it I was walking into the prison once more, but the end was insight.
.
The powers that be had set up one of these staff awards, the 12 virtues of Christmas or some such crap. One morning in front of about 10 other staff a Uniformed raking shrink comes over to me, to say that I had been nominated for a staff morale award. The smiling idiot award or something. I looked at her in amazement and said, if I am the best you have, , you have one hell of a staff morale problem. Needless to say I never received an award and my name was removed from the nominations list.
The days went by and the new baby was born, Alexandra. Rubber prices where on the up, there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel. After Alex was 6 months old and had had her vaccinations I concocted a story of village Christenings, Buddha monks and introductions to jungle spirits., I was allowed 3 months leave. With the now 2 baby family assistance , we would be fine for money. We were on the plane back once more.
Though happy to be back in the village, I was less than happy with the state of the factory. The weeds had taken over, the road side signs were gone, the gates were locked and the radio commercial had been canceled. This is where village, Issan logic and western logic are on 2 different plans. To the Thais why would you spend 50 Baht a year for each road side sign when they could be used for roofing on the plantation huts, what was the point of a radio commercial when the gates were locked and why cut the grass if there was on one there. No one was selling rubber to the factory, so why bother. I tried to explain that no one was selling rubber to us, as the factory looked abandoned and there was no one there to buy, if anyone did come, but to no avail. We would just have to start again, another party to re open.
A party was arranged, the grass cut, some fresh paint and general tidy up done. This was to be ,not only a new opening of the factory, but a blessing from the monks for the kids. Now in Buddha monk terms 7 monks is good, 9 is better, but for a heathen white man that would be 15. Not only 15 monks, but a afternoon session and the next morning another blessing. The women arrived and a mountain of food was prepared, the younger lads drank Lao Khow [rice whiskey] and I drank beer and Johnny Walker. The monks arrived, set up in the office and the blessings began, By now the beer and whiskey was starting to have an effect, but I managed to do my bit of crawling around the office putting envelopes with 500 Baht into each monks bowl, then getting my blessing. After much chanting and sprinkling of water the monks packed up and left. More booze flowed and food was eaten. Night came and the guests began to leave. By now I am well and truly pissed, but through the blur of alcohol, I noted that the guests were taking all the food home. I said to the wife they are stealing all the food. No she said, that is how it is done, all the food is given to the guests to take home. We had a young cow butchered for this and I hadn't even got a hamburger out of it. Those with more stamina stayed, drinking and playing cards, I returned to the beer and whiskey.
Next morning I awoke on the bench seat of the pick up truck, to the sound of the monks chanting. The women were preparing more food, the card players were still playing and drinking. Looking at all the empty beer bottles and half empty whiskey bottle I decided that I had had enough blessing for this life and cracked another beer. The monks left, the Lao Khow began to flow and food was eaten. By 10 am it was all over and the guests left with all the food and I started on the whiskey.
We were back, open for business, but business was slow and I didn't have time on my side, we would be on the plane back within a month. We opened some of our bigger trees to see how they would go and make some money to help with the fertilzer bill. That was about all I could do this trip. Before I knew it I was walking into the prison once more, but the end was insight.
.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Baby's, Do gooders and the GFC
Things had been going along fine for the next few years. All the trees had been planted and were doing well. We were flying back and forward on a regular basis and even managed to fit in the birth of our first daughter, Sarah-Jane. The new baby had proved to be of little problem, she was healthy and strong and too young to care about the moving. In one way she assisted, the Government of Australia had removed the tax deduction for children and replaced it with a flat family assistance payment. This money was deposited straight into the bank and continued for 3 months after you had left the country. A nice little earner when your living cost are low. All in all life was good, long working weeks in Australia and lazy beer drinking days in Thailand.
Knowing that one day the trees would start producing and to maximize profit , ribbed sheet would need to be made. A cousin of the wife had a small rubber processing set up where he make sheet and smoked it. See YouTube video, family run rubber, latex factory Buntharik Issan. After watching and learning the process a cunning plan came to me. I could do this, but bigger and cheaper, we could buy others latex, process it at a profit.Piece of cake. I would be rich, more importantly no more working for a living.
The first problem was money, or should I say the lack of it, I was so confident on the outcome that I convinced my brothers and sisters to invest. The Collister Rubber Company was formed. Many people see Thailand as some sort of third world free for all. Not so, the laws are very similar to most western country's. A company needs to be formed, planing permission obtained, permits, licenses and inspection done. At this point I would like to say thanks to the Thai Government SME Department in Ubon, without their help the project would never have come about. Next I had to find somewhere to build. Preferable on a main road with electricity. As per normal word went out on the jungle grape vine. Finally 10 rai on the main 2248 came up, it was perfect, several kilometers from the nearest village and with power lines on the road. The Thai seller could not believe his luck a stupid Farang wanted to buy a piece of worthless stoney ground where nothing would grow and bad title. There is one Thai who must curse the Farang, every time he rides buy now.
We were off, the wife's 2 brothers were sent to Rayong with a letter of introduction from the district Governor, to photograph, video and learn. Plans were drawn up workers hired, construction commenced and the money bleed out, back to Australia to work.
3 or 4 months later we had a party to open for business and show our prospective latex sellers around. Things started slow, but over the weeks production climbed. One day I was standing with the wife watching the sheet rubber slide out of the rollers. Each sheet was $1 US dollar profit, that day I counted 200. We had made it and it could only get better as more people came to sell. Little did I know that that would be the one and only time I would see 200 sheets.
It was decided that for the first time since we had married that I would return to Australia alone, work for 3 months to get enough money to tied us over the dry season. The wife was not happy, but agreed someone had to stay to watch over the business. I had not been back a week when the Global Financial Crises hit. Rubber prices collapsed to the point that it was not worth the effort to even bother to tap. The world had gone crazy. Then the wife phoned, she was pregnant. BAM BAM I was out for the count. Looked like it had all been for nothing.
What to do, I was broke and homeless, with a baby on the way. As much as I hated the idea it was back to jail full time. I took a post in a brand new, not even opened yet Prison. To call it a Prison would not do it justice, this was the new politically correct version of prison. Prisoners were no longer prisoners but clients. They were not there for punishment, but treatment, to address their behavioral problems. There were more Psychologists and clinicians than Prison Officers. Everyone was to be on a first name basis. It was to be all warm and fuzzy, everyone would be happy. Too top it all off the Government put the shrinks in charge and gave some of them uniforms and the rank, they were in charge and had to be obeyed. It was not going to be a happy place.
Most people with the IQ of a potato would agree that it is not a wise move to give violent prisoners access to weapons. In most prisons with self catering cottage units, cooking knives would have there points ground down and were secured to the sink area on a chain of some type. Not here, to do so would show the clients that we did not trust them. Needless to say that it wasn't long before the first client was lying in the yard bleeding out, after having been stabbed with a carving knife. All the shrinks, clinicians and even those who were allegedly the senior officers made a beeline to secure areas. The few real Prison Officers, were left to gain control with nothing, but their blue shirts for protection.
A few days later a De brief was held, pats on the back for all the clinical staff, for their efforts in arranging trauma counseling for the prisoners, but it had been noted that some of the uniformed staff had been heard using threatening language and in a few cases actually pushing and shoving prisoner into cells. No mention of anyone taking responsibility for allowing the availability of knives. This was the new order of PC appointed public servants, who took no responsibility for their actions.
I think this was shown very clearly some years later in the tragic Victorian bush fires. The 2 Government Ministers in change, were busy mowing grass or something. They couldn't be held responsible for the what went wrong. The Chief Commissioner of Police, who is in overall change of the states emergency services could not be held accountable. She was at lunch and had to have her hair done, while 170 plus people died.
GFC, baby's or not I could not stomach years of PC BS, we would be going home to our village, come hell or high water.
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