Seeing the child which I so fondly remember standing at the dark alley brought mixed sentiments. Half of me was overwhelmed with joy seeing the boy for the first time since 3 years, while the other part of me felt a deep sense of grief. Grief knowing that behind his smile is a broken little boy who has seen some of the roughest 3 years of his life in the streets of Bangkok.
David smiled as he respectfully bowed his head in a simple “wai” (Thai gesture for greeting) and reminded me of the very first day I met this child when he walked into the rehabilitation program 3 years ago. Despite all these years, he is the same little boy I remembered, but just a little taller and sporting a new self dyed colored hairdo that would have enabled him to fit into the rough neighborhood.
David quickly reminded us that he had to go back “home” quickly to return the money as the owners were waiting for him. We jumped on the opportunity and asked to visit the “home” on the way to dinner and he agreed. We jumped into a cab and made our way. In the cab, there was an awkward silence David being the gangster was first to break the silence. He turned around and asked “Pee Eugene, what are you doing in Bangkok ?” Its a strange question because he knew the answer to this question when he spoke to my staff a couple of hours ago. But I'm guessing he wants to hear it from me personally.
So i replied “I came here to find you, David”. With these words, there was another long moment of silence but not without a small smile emerging from David's tired face.
In no time, we arrived in Inthamara, a rough little neighborhood where streets are interspersed with sleazy joints and girlie bars. This area contrasted from the modern city centre with its grand shopping malls and beautiful condominiums. This place was on the other end of the spectrum- A place where no mothers, if given the option, would choose this place to raise their kids.
We weaved through the streets and soon we arrived in a quieter segment of the main street with less girly bars. Not so bad, I thought. We quickly got off to avoid getting honked at and David promptly led the way to the house which was tucked away in a dark, murky alley. Though the air was laced with the smell of sewage, it did not seem to border the residents who seemed to have made their homes here. There is just enough light to see silhouettes of children playing in the dark but its way too dark to see anything else, much less recognise anyone if we do get mugged or attacked. This reminded me of the cramped housing scene in Slumdog millionaire, just much darker.
After a short walk, David turned into a small opening in a rusted metal gate where his “home” was. Home was a dilapidated shop house and David effortlessly squeezed though metal gate while for us, it was a little more challenging. Once inside we were greeted with a lurid smell of leftover food coupled with the stench of half dried clothes. The place was overcrowded with 7 others sitting on a little straw mat watching TV, totally oblivious of our presence. The people only started to take notice when David politely introduced us to his “owners” - A lady and her perpetually drunk husband.
We later found out that they were Hmongs as well. So with the help of my staff, we introduced ourselves and managed to break through the icy barrier. We explained our work to the family and our intent to visit David and bring him out for dinner. The word “dinner” did not sit well with the drunk husband, he suddenly got offended and territorial, insisting that we stay for dinner and refused to allow us to take the child out.
We just got ourselves into a predicament.
A heavily intoxicated and very insistent husband wanted David to stay, that was just the first part of the problems. He continued to insist that the guests should stay and he would be offended if we refuse. He was very insistent. Things were not going well as planned. This was a moment where divine intervention was required. After more than 20mins of negotiation, we managed to bridge the barrier by bringing both his daughter and David out for dinner. That somehow calmed his nerves a little more but he was still displeased with our refusal. This is obvious from his refusal to take a photograph with the rest of the family - something that signifies distrust and unhappiness in the Hmong culture.
With a little persuasion (or distraction) from the wife, we managed to quickly take our leave with the kids and soon the metal gates were behind us. What a moment of relief!
We quickly made our way to the street to catch a cab for dinner and just when we were about 5meters from the main street, we were halted by a loud shout from the house, and the drunk father staggered out, shouting and ordering the kids to stop.
Our hearts sank.... He must have changed his mind and wanted the 2 kids back.
He walked towards us and we prepared ourselves for the worst. But instead a miracle happened. The half drunk father digged into his pocket and shoved the notes into the hands of a surprised daughter. He murmured, “go share the cost of the dinner” and he staggered back into the dark house.
All 4 heaved a sigh of relief. And we quickly boarded the next available cab for dinner...
