The Chronicles of Foster Foskin’s Adventures in Thailand 18

Marriage. Yer’d think after me last bloody disaster I’d be gun-shy wouldn’t yer? But since I haven’t told yer about me previous marriage, it’s probably hard fer yer to judge, isn’t it? I’ll tell yer what, though, meetin’ Nok is the best thing that has ever ‘appened ter me. That shiela really knows how ter make an old cow cocky like me put on the horns and perform. If that was all, though, I’d have ter be a bit bloody shallow, wouldn’t I?

Nah! It was much more than that. When I was with her me heart beat faster. I felt like I was a whole man, like part of me that had been missing was finally found. The world just looked better when she was around, so it wasn’t ‘ard ter say ‘yes’ when she asked me ter marry ‘er.

I was a bit puzzled about why she ‘ad chosen Ubon ter get married though. “How come we’re goin’ ter get married in Ubon, love?”

“Because that’s where my family is.”

“But I thought yer family comes from Chiang Mai.”

“Yes, they do.”

I was thoroughly confused by now, so I sat back in the van seat, raised an eyebrow, and looked at her without saying another word. No shiela can stand silence fer too long. It just goes against the grain. I reckon it’s somethin’ ter do with their anatomy. There must be a large cavity between their ears that needs ter be stimulated all the time or it makes ‘em irritable. But that’s just me own theory, yer understand.

Anyway, the upshot of it was that her father had left when she was just a baby and he had remarried up in Chiang Mai where he sired a few half brothers and sisters to Nok. So that’s who she had been visitin’ up there. Now we were headed to her mother’s place for the weddin’. Made sense ter me….I think.

Anyway, I told ‘er that since she would have all her family around fer the weddin’ I wouldn’t mind havin’ some of me own mates around too. She agreed. So I pulled out me mobile phone and started callin’ a few of the Stickmanites. First, or course, was the Stickman himself.

“Hey Stick! How’d yer like a free trip up ter Ubon fer a few days, mate?”

“Is that some sort of trick question? Am I bein’ punished fer somethin’?”

“Nah mate. I’d like yer ter be the best man at me weddin’. Nok and me are headin’ up to Ubon now ter get married. Just as long as yer don’t start with the funny comments at the end of the ceremony, ok?”

So stick was the first to accept. Then I called Casanundra, BKKSW, Korski, Dana, Pusiwaet, Frank Visakay, Sonia and Rick, Almost Anonymous, Union Hill, and a bunch more. Unfortunately, the professor was still on ‘is bloody honeymoon, and I reckon there was no way ter get him away from ‘is very own pusiwaet…er…Nok, ter go to another bloody weddin’. Anyway, he was due ter head back to Pommieland with ‘is bride, so e’d be a bit preoccupied. Besides, with his record, he’d probably burn down Nok’s village too during the festivities.

“Hire a couple of vans,” I told Union, probably the best guy to organize anythin’ in Bangkok, “and collect all the blokes. Drive up to Ubon in a couple of days and we’ll party like there’s no tomorrer. I’ll pay fer everythin’ when youse get here.”

He was up for that. I hung up and Nok and me settled in fer the long drive ter Ubon. Bluey was already cuddled around a few tinnies, so he wouldn’t feel a thing fer the whole trip.

ODE TO AN ESARN WEDDING

A weddin’ up in Esarn we got planned
Me mates along ter lend a hand
The night will ring with fun and laughter
No tellin’ what’ll happen after
And dancin’ and a-singin’ we will be
A wild spree, with Nok and me, and company

Bring on the flowers, pour out the booze
Bring in the guests, but leave out yer shoes

The monks’ll be there to do their chants
The family’ll tie string about our hands
Me mates’ll be chattin’ up the daughters
Tryin’ fer goals that they didn’t aughter
And feastin’ and a-drinkin’ we shall see
A time free, with Nok and me, and company

Fill up the tables, lay out the plates
You’re all invited, but don’t come late

See Sean get drunk and lose ‘is girl
Frank’ll tell tales ter make yer toes curl
Dana will declaim, as is his wont
As Korski cries out, “Oh, please don’t!”
And kissin’ and a-snugglin’ the lovers’ll be
At last free, with Nok and me, and company

Turn down the lights, turn up the band
As the newlyweds dance, give ‘em a hand

Stickman’ll be writin’ his weekly report
On the fine goin’s on at this country resort
Union Hill will be drunk, worse than a skunk
And Casanundra will argue with a young monk
While Lookpapa a-drunk leans against an old tree
The booze free, with Nok and me, and company

So don’t miss out, give us a shout
“Good on yer Fos!” As I lead Nok out

We’ll head for our bed, upstairs all alone
The party’ll stop when they hear us both groan
Some bastard ‘as gone and short-sheeted the bed
But what follows on next cannot be said
It’s all a-whoopee, as we shout with glee
The sex free, with Nok and me, and no company!

It was late mornin’ as we approached the bridge over the Moon River. Bluey was awake by then and somethin’ in the name must of awoke his romantic streak. The bastard started croonin’ the song!

Imagine a cross between an old crow and a dingo in heat, and I was gettin’ ready ter throw up. Especially when he lost the beat. But luckily we soon passed over the water into the town where he shut up as we passed the local girl’s college.

“Don’t worry, Cobber,” I told him, “I won’t let ‘em attack yer.”

Dunno why he didn’t laugh. I could’ve sworn I saw a tear twinklin’ in ‘is eye. Thailand was finally getting’ to ‘im. Maybe the fact that I was about ter tie the knot might of got ‘im thinkin’ about doin’ the deed ‘imself. Mind you, ‘ed ‘ave ter find a shiela who could drink as much as ‘im but.

Well, yer just never know what might happen, do yer?

We stopped fer some refreshments at the local Tesco, where we just beat the deadline to stock up on booze. By the time we piled back into the van, we all had ter squeeze into the front seat. There was no room in the back! We made a quick getaway, chased by a bunch of irate rice farmers who had just found out we had cleaned out all the beer from Tesco. I’m sure I even heard a bullet zing past the window, but we were zoomin’ out the gate by then.

It was only fifty kilometers further on, so Nok sat on me lap or somethin’ and we watched the countryside flashin’ past. Bluey sat astride the gear stick. I reckon he would be glad ter arrive. He was eggin’ on our driver as we sprinted into the home stretch. There wasn’t much ter see along the way: Just the same old rice fields, the occasional bridge over a creek, and a few buffalo wallowin’ in the mud. I looked at Nok, tryin’ ter figure out how such a beautiful, sophisticated, well educated woman had emerged from this stultifyin’ landscape. Yer just never know, do yer?

I made a note ter ask ‘er more about ‘er past over the next coupla days. I wasn’t havin’ any second thoughts yer understand, but I was getting’ curious about her. She never ceased surprisin’ me.

We drove into her village. It wasn’t much. A coupla dust covered concrete roads led in off the highway. Most of the houses were old teak wood that hadn’t seen a coat of paint since the day they were built. Scattered in-between were a few houses built with concrete breezeblocks downstairs, and the wooden house perched on top in an attempt at bringin’ the village into the  21st Century.

We pulled up outside one of the houses, and Nok announced that this was her place. I looked out the window and wondered what I was lettin’ meself in for.

The front of the house was wide open onto the street, with wooden shutters pegged back. The walls were made of breezeblock painted institutional green. The old wooden part upstairs leaned sideways, like an old drunk unaware of gravity. Tacked onto the side of the house a lean-to sheltered a pen for a buffalo. The pen was covered with two feet of buffalo dung. Talk about wallowin’ in your own shit!

As we all piled out of the van the whole family converged on us. There was a coupla old wizened women stooped over at ninety degrees, grandmas I reckon. A bunch of slightly younger old women with black betel-stained teeth, and plenty of wizened, brown shirtless men with grins from ear to ear made up the rest of the welcoming committee. About a dozen or more kids clustered around our legs, all gazin’ up at us with wide eyes and runny noses.

Just then, there was a loud bellow from the back of the crowd and the bloody buffalo shoved its head into the crowd ter see what was goin’ on. Strewth! I could see this was gonna be a real rural existence, almost like back home. Except our locals are a lot darker skinned and have fuzzy hair.

Nok stood next ter me and gave a beautiful Wai ter one of the old women. “Foster!” she hissed, “This is my mother. Give her a polite Wai.”

Crikey! This was a bit hard ter take. There didn’t seem ter be any family resemblance between my beautiful bride-ter-be and this wrinkled old crone with a betel-stained mouth and dugs hangin’ down to her knees. Yer could tell she was a bit droopy in the tits department. She didn’t have a bloody shirt on!

Anyway, bein’ the dutiful husband-ter-be I gave her a Wai just as Nok had been showin’ me on the way up, and Mum cracked a smile blacker than a bloody coal mine at midnight.

Then we Wai’d the rest of the crew. “These are all my family.” Nok explained. “Everyone in the village is related.” Crikey! I was beginnin’ ter wonder if there might be a bit of incest goin’ on around ‘ere. But I didn’t have time ter ponder on it.

There was much jabberin’ back and forth between Nok and her family. They all seemed ter be deaf. I dunno. Maybe they were, because they was all shoutin’ at each other like they were half a mile apart, instead of a coupla feet. The whole tribe of men came up ter shake me hand and someone shoved a glass of beer into me hand. That’s when I started feelin’ a bit more comfortable. Obviously, these were civilized gents who just hadn’t heard of shoes or shirts.

Nok’s mother showed us to our room upstairs where we unpacked our things. Or rather, Nok did. I was a bit distracted by all the kids grinnin’ around the doorway. It didn’t look like they’d ever seen a white man before. Some of the kids stood there with round eyes and runny noses. Others peered at me and then looked away gigglin’ and wipin’ their runny noses whenever I caught their eye.

“Farung! Farung!” They kept on repeating. I’d grin and pretend ter chase them away. Then I would turn back into the room and they would creep back to the doorway again ter find the lollies I’d dropped while they weren’t lookin’. We played this game fer a bit until Nok shooed them all downstairs.

“Foster, our toilet is outside in the garden and it’s not safe to go there at night because of the cobras and spiders. If you want to tinkle at night you squat down over here.”

She led me to a corner of the wide veranda and pointed at a large hole in the floorboards. I peered down and could see a bunch of straw below, and next to that was the buffalo stall.

“Crikey! Yer mean I’ll have ter squat like a bloody shiela or miss the bloody hole in the dark?” She nodded.

“What happens if I miss the straw and hit the bloody buffalo? Won’t ‘e get a bit upset?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. He likes to eat the straw after we shee. Buffalo like the salt!”

Well, that was alright then. I just didn’t want to have an enraged buffalo bellowing downstairs in the middle of the bloody night because I’d pissed him off!

We went downstairs and Nok went orf ter the kitchen ter start preparin’ dinner. So I wandered out ter the front of the house and sat in one of the cane chairs there. I was soon joined by a couple of her male kin. We cracked open a coldie each and sat back in companionable silence as we watched the grass grow. None of ‘em spoke English, so we didn’t have anythin’ ter say to each other, but their smiles said it all. We were gettin’ along just fine as we worked our way through the beer I’d brought in from the van. At this rate, I thought, we might have ter go back ter the city ter stock up again.

Nok came out with a snack and placed it on the small coffee table in front of us. I looked at the dish tryin’ ter figure out what it was. “Don’t worry Foster, you can eat this. It’s small sun-dried shrimp. Very tasty with beer.”

I popped a couple into me mouth and followed with a swig of beer. The shrimp were a bit chewy and salty, but very tasty.

Bluey turned up. He’d been taken to lodge with one of Nok’s uncles just up the road. He sat down, cracked a tinnie, and sighed in contentment. “Ya know what, Fos? I reckon I could fit right in here easy enough. It’s almost like Narrogin.”

I didn’t see the similarity meself. Narrogin is a wide open land with large sheep stations grazin’ on rollin’ hills of grass. This place was flat, broken by dykes separatin' the small rice paddies. But it was green and peaceful here, so I guess that was what he meant. I just nodded and burped loudly.

“Hey, Nok love! We’ve run out of the shrimp snack. Have yer got any more?”

A few seconds later, she brought another plate. This time there was a lot of little white egg shaped things on a banana leaf. I grabbed a few and popped ‘em into me mouth. Jeeeeez!!!

I spat ‘em out and swilled me mouth out with a beer. “What the hell is that?” I choked out.

All Nok's family was pissin’ themselves laughin’ when they saw the look on me face.

“Don’t you like red ant eggs, Foster?” Nok asked innocently.

I scowled and she went orf back to the kitchen laughin’ herself silly. A few seconds later, she turned up with a plate of prawns, but the bloody things weren’t cooked! Worse, they were still jumpin’ around.

“What’d yer bring these out for? They’re a bit bloody small and they aren’t even cooked yet. Where’s the barbie?”

“Oh no. You eat drunken prawns raw. They are swimming in Thai whiskey. Try one.” Nok urged me.

Well, I didn’t want ter look like a bloody fool in front of her family again, so I said no. But she picked one up with a pair of chopsticks and held it to me mouth. I tried to push away, but she held the back of my head and commanded me to eat it. I was just about to say no again when she popped it in.

I chomped down and it wasn’t too bad at all! In fact, it was downright tasty. She saw the look on me face, smiled, and fed me another one. In-between sucks on me beer the drunken prawns went down very well. Bluey even tried a few and gave ‘em the thumbs up.

Just then, one of her brothers, at least I think he was a brother but ‘e could of been a cousin or an uncle, slipped a glass into me hand filled with a clear liquid. “Thai lao kao.” He said. He held up his glass in salute. I lifted me glass and we both downed the booze.

The next thing I know a bloody fire erupted from deep in me belly all the way up to me front teeth.

“What the bloody hell is that!” I squeezed out, gaspin’ for air.

“That’s what you call White Lightning. It’s made from rice. Very potent.” Nok informed me.

No shit, Sherlock! I was thinkin’ to meself.

Meanwhile, her brother had refilled our glasses and proposed a toast again. This time everyone joined in, so I had to raise me glass too. I sipped at it gently, but couldn’t taste a thing. I shrugged and downed the glass in one swig. A warm glow suffused me. This stuff wasn’t too bad at all, once you get over the initial shock.

By the third glass I was feelin’ no pain. I looked at Bluey. He was sittin’ there with a silly grin on ‘is face while one of Nok’s beautiful cousins fed him Lao Kao and drunken prawns. Very appropriate, I thought. A couple of drunken prawns getting drunk and eatin’ drunken raw prawns. Only in bloody Thailand, What a country!

We drank all afternoon and well into the night. I don’t recall how I got ter bed. Fer sure, none of the blokes I was drinkin’ with could have carried me. Maybe Nok has hidden strengths I know nothin’ about, eh?


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The wedding guests finally turn up, and Stickman submissions plummet to zero for the next few days of fun and frivolity as the writers all converge on Ubon….


© Copyright 2007 by the author.

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