Robbing Granny

Here in the Surin neighborhood or village as they say, there is a local boy of about fifteen I’d say who I have been warned about. Sis has told me about this kid, and told me he is 'mafia'. While the shop was being built one day a kid came by on a bicycle a bit to small for him, gliding slowly down the soi, eyes taking in everything in the area, bricks, bags of cement, corrugated tin, wood, steel, tools, etc. He rode by very slowly. I’d never noticed the kid before myself. Sis was standing near me and grabbed my arm, stating, “That boy I tell you before. Mafia boy. He steal everything in village. Boy my dee (no good).

“Who?” I muttered back in an undertone, as she was muttering quietly herself to me, “That little scrawny runt on the bike?”

“Yes, he. He mafia. Take yaa bah (methamphetamine). Have gang. Break insigh (inside) house in soi all the time. Steal anything he can take.”

“Well, thanks for pointing him out Sis. I’ll keep an eye out for the little thieving bugger. Tell him if I ever catch him stealing from me I’ll break his arms, or pay someone to do it for me if I need to.” I grinned conspiratorially to her.

Knowing this sort of local information helps one be prepared. I make sure our properties are secure and well lighted just for this sort of shit. I hate thieves, and I hate being stolen from. I have a five hundred dollar Trek bicycle I brought over from the states I’d hate to lose, so it is securely stashed away and locked up. Also it keeps Sis and look sow (daughter) from using it as well. It’s my bike, and I have stated so firmly. No one else is allowed to use it. Once while I was away a niece staying with us took it out for a ride to see her friends, and screwed up the gearing royally. It took me two hours to unfreeze the chain and gears and realign everything to perfection once more. It now has a combination lock on it, and only I know the combination to it. I was pissed and livid. Little witch takes a 20,000 baht US made bicycle without permission, screws it up, and then puts it back without saying a word to anyone, for me to find when next I want to go for a ride about town. She caught serious hell from me for that one, and no longer is staying with us. I don’t go for that Thai stuff of, 'what’s yours is mine'. I instill the thought of 'private property' into my Thai family. There are things they know are mine, and they cannot use, whether I am there or not. Not many things, but I have my own stuff, and if anyone is going to break it, or fuck it up, or be drinking it, it will be me doing so, and they know that as I’ve drilled it into their heads. This includes drinking from my liquor stash of things I cannot buy in Thailand, like my good John Powers Irish whiskey, which they’d probably be giving/offering to the damn Buddha statues in the house if I wasn’t there and they already didn’t know that if they touch my good booze there will be dire consequences to be experienced; that includes my Sambuca, my Amaretto, and my good Italian Chianti, as well as a couple other bottles of liquors I have stashed away. (A twelve year old bottle of nice smooth Tequila and some other wines and liqueurs, as well as a good Vodka.) This also includes my laptop, my digital camera, my bass guitar and amplifier, my English language DVD’s and CD’s, my tools and weed-whacker, and my freaking toothbrush as well! Sharing with family is good and proper, but we all have our personal stuff that is OURS. They consider this a farang eccentricity, but have seen me extremely pissed off before, and truly do not want to see this more than once. It’s not a pretty sight, but when deserved I will let my anger show in no uncertain terms, and to hell with Thai face and jai yen yen (cool heart). I am NOT Thai, woman. I’ll respect your culture; you’ll respect my privacy and personal things, which is part and parcel of my own damn culture, and just as important. This culture stuff goes both ways darling. End of story, honey.

I’ve set limits on this Thai idea of sharing everything though with the family, close family or extended, especially extended. If I didn’t my good booze would be drunk up at some family gathering over chilies and sticky rice and I’d return from far away to an empty booze locker, a broken 20,000 baht bicycle that was a true pain in the ass to get over here, an un-tuned, nicked and dinged bass guitar, which also was a pain to get over here, and probably blown speakers in my amp as well, and likely a toothbrush that would look like someone used it to clean the frigging toilet or something equally gross. Why the hell anyone would use another person's toothbrush is truly beyond me.

There have been break-ins in the neighborhood. This young mafia boy is always the suspected culprit. Jeans and other clothing disappear from the occasional clothes line. Someone once stole one of my Lovebirds; the cages are now all locked. I am surprised they didn’t steal Booboo, my Myna bird, but he’d probably make such a racket he’d wake the entire neighborhood from a sound sleep, plus his bite, or peck, is a bit painful really. My home and the shop are well secured though, so there is little chance of a break-in, and we let our friends and neighbors we trust know when we’ll be away so they can watch our property, and they do the same with us. It's sort of a neighborhood-watch thing.

Mafia Boy stays in a shack of a house with his Granny down the soi and around the corner from us. A friend lives next door to them. Whenever there’s a break-in (some Thais still don’t understand the concept of home security I think, trusting in Buddha and other things to protect them from harm) Mafia Boy will take off for a week, or a few weeks, until the furor dies down, then he slides back into Granny’s house again after the money he got for the goods he stole is all spent on dope and riotous living with his gang of thieves brothers. He’s been sent to juvenile hall for a couple stays when he’s been caught red-handed, otherwise the cops can do little. I doubt they fingerprint the crime scenes anyway, although I do hope they’ve fingerprinted this little thief at least, for when he murders someone who comes home and catches him in the act at least. He likely carries a blade on him of some sort. He’s a piece of work, but Granny always takes him back. She’s his only family. Blood is thick in these here parts and she likely makes excuses for him and his mafia ways. Granny also runs a tiny shop from her shack of a house, nothing much, but some chips and snack foods, odds and ends really, and Lao Khao rice whiskey of course.

Recently the friend of mine who lives next door to Granny and Mafia Boy came and told us that Mafia Boy had waited the other night for his Granny to fall asleep, and while she slept he cleaned her out of all the stock she had in her shop, probably selling it to some fence who buys this sort of shit cheaply for his own shop and using the money for some cheap thrills the yaa bah (crazy drug, speed) gives him. We all agreed this was some low down nasty stuff the kid did. Imagine stealing from your own old sickly Granny? Disgusting behavior. He must have had accomplices, probably some of his gang friends with motocykes parked nearby. These drugs, this speed pill these kids smoke like crack, is some nasty stuff; extremely habit forming. But even that, stealing from your Granny! Our friend said if he saw the kid again he was going to talk with him about doing such a nasty thing to his own grandmother, who has taken him in and cared for him and fed and clothed him and kept him off the streets and living like a bum more than likely. (And there are many of these homeless bums to be seen in Thailand, usually drunks and drug users.)

A few weeks later Mafia Boy had run out of money, sensed the coast was clear and came back to stay once again with Granny, who for some reason forgave him and let him stay. (I doubt Granny called the cops on him. Rather she just whined to the neighbors and monks of her plight and some helped her out with some money to restock and survive.) My friend living next door saw him sitting out front of Granny’s place and went over and sat down and gave him a good Buddhist talking to. Telling him what a nasty little shit he was to have robbed his own grandmother like that and gave him hell.

We heard about this a couple of days later, when the friend was tearing his hair out and telling the neighborhood his house had been broken into and all his stuff stolen; TV, DVD player, some money, some jewelry, etc. They just took a crowbar to his back door, which is surrounded by some greenery and trees along the wall, and snapped his lock and carried it all off on motocykes. He was justifiably livid. He knew it was Mafia Boy, getting him back for having the gall and the nerve to chastise him for stealing from his own grandmother. It was payback; a slap in the face, a 'fuck you asshole mind your own business' show of bravado from Mafia Boy, the big tough gang-banger riding around the neighborhood scoping out something to steal on a child's bicycle, which was probably stolen.

One thing Mafia Boy might not know though is my friend has a few friends on the local police force, good friends, whom he was out drinking with the night his home was burglarized. They asked him what he wanted them to do once they found Mafia Boy. Arrest him? Throw him in jail? Beat the living shit out of him, and then put him in jail?

My friend’s answer to them?

“No. I want him dead.” he told his friends the police. The loss of face for him is too much to bear.

I don’t doubt Mafia Boy will be in for a big surprise next time he shows his face around the neighborhood and Granny’s shop-house. I doubt he’ll live to see sixteen. Mafia Boy better party his ass off with the proceeds from this latest crime. He’s a dead man walking. These guys are dead serious, and I think one day soon we’ll hear that Mafia Boy is seriously dead. Likely from resisting arrest; or pointing a throw-away gun at some cops, or just found in some wooded weed overgrown field beaten and kicked to a pulp and left for dead.

It’s probably the best thing that could happen for his poor old Granny.


Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)