Grandpa Comes for a Visit - A Ghost Story - Part 3

Yep, after about thirty minutes of use the brand new weed-whacker died on me. Needless to say I was pissed off at this. Those Makro jerks had gyped me with a cheap piece of crap and had stolen my baht (money) from me.

I took the broken weed-whacker to my wife and Sis and announced my displeasure at being cheated of my hard earned baht, and told them we would be going back to the Makro Store to exchange it for a new one, or get my money back at least. They seemed to think this wasn't possible. Huh?

Me: Why not?

Sis: "You buy. You break. Not give."

Me: "Oh, you think not, 'eh. Well, come and see the Lao Falang at work honey. I will get satisfaction from Makro, dahgling. (dahgling=monkey's ass)

Sis (frowning): "Not dahgling! You dahgling!

Wife: "Think not give, sammee (husband)."

Me: "Et tu, Cute-us?"

Wife: "Think Makro not give new. Maybe fix."

Me: "I don't want it fixed. I want a new one!
This one is obviously defective. It was probably built on a Monday morning at the factory by a hung-over craftsman with no care for quality control. Screw fixing it, I want a new one. Let's go back after picking look sow (daughter) up from school later, okay?

Wife and Sis: "Okay, no problem. Up to you."

Me: "Damned straight!"

These poor villagers are so used to getting screwed. Or maybe it's just that friggin' "My pen lie" (no problem this means) attitude. Whatever, they seem afraid to complain to this large international Makro store chain if they aren't satisfied with their purchase. Time for a lesson on good customer relations and consumer rights to fair treatment when purchasing shoddy goods. Time to teach them to speak up and not be taken advantage of. They seemed somewhat dubious of getting any satisfaction. We'll see.

I took the damned thing back apart and put it into its original package. No small feat this, as putting it together was a major pain in the neck really. Taking it apart again was a ROYAL pain in the ass. One piece in particular was extremely reluctant to go on earlier, and now, once on, was very difficult to get off. I got it apart without further damaging the unit, after much swearing and sweating, and packed it away.

Later we went to Makro after picking up our daughter from school and everyone involved in Makro we talked to was very helpful, all smiles and concerned frowns when it was explained all I wanted a new weed-whacker. "No problem." I was told. Makro has a seven day from purchase return policy if a customer is dissatisfied with their purchase. Once I was told this I visited my wife and Sis with a smug "I told you so" look of superiority and vindicated righteousness. The exchange for a new weed-whacker was quick and painless.

Afterward I browsed the store's electronic section. They have a nice electric typewriter that can be changed from Thai font to English and back. The keys having both languages’ alphabet characters. 5,000 baht this is. I'm thinking of buying this so my wife and daughter can learn to type. I'm told they can get a weekly tutor to teach them typing. Plus I'd like one for making hard-copies of my stories for hard storage while in Thailand, not having a computer or the ability to get on-line here as of yet. I also saw that they have some decent computers for sale on a monthly installment plan of around 1,200 baht a month for the lower end systems, to around 1,800 baht a month for the better machines. I've Sis looking into this to give me the info in a month or two when I return. I'll probably buy one then. Now if we can just get land-line telephone service into the village I'll be all set at the house to be on the internet. We'll see. (As an update, I've since bought a home PC, and also a laptop.)

As we walked back to the pick-up truck in the Makro parking lot with my new, functioning hopefully, weed-whacker I crowed a bit about my success at getting a new whacker.

To which my wife replied, a bit irritated, "Think do because you are falang. Think not do for Thai."

"Well", I said, "Then it's good you married a falang instead of a Thai man, huh? I'm not only a hansum falang man who takes care of you, but I can also get exchanges and refunds from the damn Makro store! Your life is complete 'eh darling? Why, you even have a pet monster of your own that doesn't 'butterfly' (Thai slang for cheat or philander), haha!"

This was said jokingly, but she still blushed and hit me, saying, "You joke too much, darling."

I wonder why?

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"For they can conquer who believe they can."
Ralph Waldo Emerson,
Society and Solitude
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So there I was this fine day with a functioning weed-whacker, a fridge full of cold beer Chang, some falang breakfast in my belly, and a throbbing toe, which seemed to not be broken, and the pain of which was gradually fading to a distant memory.

As I whacked the weeds of my mini lawn in front of the house I once again became the center of attraction for every passing old man, old woman, pack of children, soi dog, and curious villager. Most seemed to have never seen an electric weed whacker before, nor a falang cutting his lawn, and found this to be either amazing, amusing, or downright dangerous. Not knowing that the cutting edge of this machine is but a thick piece of fishing line really, they were concerned at my working in sandals with the thing buzzing away so close to my feet.

Most villagers have only seen the huge gasoline powered grass cutters/edgers sold in the area. I'd seen these on sale at the night flea-market and considered buying one, but figured that after a couple beer Changs this would end up a good way to earn the nickname 'Hop Along', after chopping off a few toes. Sharp saw blades these have, plus they are heavy and would play hell with my back problems. I showed a few people that this weed whacker would not cut you if it hit your foot. It stings like hell, and can leave thin welts depending on the thickness of the line, but it won't cut you. They were amazed at how it would cut the weeds and grass, but wouldn't cut skin. Another magic act from the amazing falang dear villagers! The Great White Ape is such a great attraction in this village. I should charge admission.

I sweated and swore, and didn't really help my back any at all, as I tend to go overboard when feeling healthy in the lower spine, and was amazed myself at the thickness and sturdiness of the grasses and weeds, and their stubbornness to be cut back to a more civilized length. It made me wish for a gas powered foot chopper and a pair of thick steel-toed leather work boots.

There are freaking tough weeds over there in the Isaan village. I was going through line like crazy, as the tougher weeds kept breaking off the end of the line and I had to keep extending it every few minutes. I'll have to bring over some thicker replacement line for the weed-whacker next trip over. A lot of the lawn is just jungle weeds that are like small creeper vines growing everywhere throughout the lawn, but I was determined to conquer the flora even if I had to use the whole spool of line, dammit!

After an hour or so my wife and Sis brought me refreshment in the form of an ice cold beer Chang and some Khao Pad Gai (fried rice with chicken) with cucumbers and scallions, and with hot peppers of course. They clucked about over my already tanned, though quickly reddening, skin, and warned me to not stay out too long bare-chested. The sun was strong they said, even though it was rainy season. I pooh-poohed their concerns and drank and ate my lunch.

Much to my chagrin I later had a pretty decent sunburn for my efforts. Must be that damned Swedish blood from my father's side of the family.

Once back to work, whacking away, I noticed old Mama with a short handled rice-picking sickle in hand cutting away the grasses at the edge of the dirt culvert where the concrete ground gutter ends by the house. Seeing her go at it the other younger ladies all sitting about on their asses and gossiping away at Sis Mun's shop next door across the side yard became a bit ashamed at their laziness. Becoming motivated from seeing the old woman working in the hot sun, the clouds having dissipated almost entirely over the village by now, a good half a dozen of them swarmed the culvert with their own sickles and cleaned out all of the debris filling the ditch, and cut back the thigh length grasses and weeds to a more reasonable height.

All right Mama! Education and inspiration through example. Now we would have a clean sewer to drain the waters away and keep down the opportunities of the mosquitoes and such pests to breed throughout the, just beginning, rainy season.

Mama seems to be very happy with her new son-in-law, and we get along famously. She's a smart old girl, and knows how to get the youngsters to do what needs to be done without saying a word. She seems happy now that she didn't stab me with the big butcher knife as she threatened to do me on my first visit to the village. (A story for another day.) She sees I'm not some lazy falang jerk, drunk on lao khao (Thai rice whiskey) every night and thinking I'm better than everyone else. She knows I am always doing things to improve living conditions, not only for me and my wife and daughter, but for all the family around us, including her. She seems to have a genuine affection toward me now after these past few years, and is always doing little special things just for me almost every day. It's amusing to watch my wife jump when Mama perceives her to be lacking in her care for her husband, me, and lights into her with a verbal harangue and ass-chewing, which gains me lavish care for weeks after. She's my champion, and stands up for me in most arguments, and gives the best 'lucky strings' from Buddha for me. I've grown fond of her myself. 

Within a half an hour the culvert was draining properly and all cleaned out and cut back, with the debris and cut grasses piled high along the road to dry for future burning later on.

I smiled to myself at her cleverness and style, gave her a wink as she passed me going back to her gardening, to which she grinned a small conspiring grin in acknowledgement of my spotting her cleverness at gaining me help in my endeavors. I finished whacking the lawn and frying in the sunshine.

Nulla dies sine linea

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"Labor is often the father of pleasure."
Voltaire, Discours
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(To be continued.)

Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)

This story was written in 2003. All rights reserved by the author.