Tuesday, May 21, 1996, 2:35 PM
Jung left for Petchabun yesterday. He wouldn't tell me why he was going there for the longest time. I think he was embarrassed. Finally he admitted: he was going there to help with his family's annual rice-planting work. I asked if I could go, but he didn't want me to, was worried about my safety, since it's hard to get to a doctor there (or so he believes).

I get this sad feeling that Boy-Boy is somehow collapsing. There seemed to be many fewer boys hanging around than before, and I asked Jung about this. He said that there were only 9 boys now (down from 30). Many had gone back to Bangkok. Many who had been wounded in the Petchabun accident continued to live at Boy-Boy only until their wounds were healed; then they went elsewhere. Also, a new bar had opened and had drawn away several boys. The other night, Prae had to go to Jung's house to make a phone call, because she couldn't afford to pay the phone bill and no longer had long-distance service.

Yesterday, during my free English class, I asked them for what situations would they like to learn English. "With the customers," they said. I told them that I wanted to teach them English so that some day they could find a better job if they wanted to. Jung immediately corrected me, "I speak English and German, and I still work here." He again maintained that many guys who even have high school educations choose to work as prostitutes, simply because they enjoy it. And of course, because the money is good. It really sort of threw cold water on my glowing "selfless missionary" notion. Nevertheless, I will continue to teach them English.

Wednesday, May 22, 1996, 7:25 PM
Found out today that Jung did not leave for Petchabun as I thought the other day! Reason, whispered to me over the phone by Jung, while I was standing there in Boy-Boy: "no money." I'm beginning to piece the story together, although I've probably got it at least 80% wrong. I think Prae did not pay Jung for his work because she felt she couldn't afford it. I think that much of the flight of boys from Boy-Boy may have been due to discontent over Prae's management practices. For example, she paid for her mother's eye operation and bought a new air-conditioner, but didn't have money to pay the phone bill. Jung learned through a mutual friend that Wat had said that without On (who helped Prae manage some of the finances), Boy-Boy would go out of business. On is one of the boys who left. Jung insists that that charge holds no truth. Andy, who's been at this business for many years, was the first to quietly leave. Perhaps he knew before anyone else that Prae's management style was simply bad business?

"Doi Suthep!"
Not always, but often, there are Thai men out in front of the Chang Puek gate near where I live hawking bus rides up to the nearby mountain, Doi Suthep. The appeal goes something like this:

1. Approach an innocent farang.
2. Yell "Doi Suthep!" at them.

For months now, I've kindly said, "no thanks," or something. But the other day I was feeling spanky, and the uninvited invitation hit me at just the right angle to elicit a more creative response. I cheerfully called back, in my extremely elementary Thai, "Doi Suthep mai dii! Doi Suthep suung. Suung maak maak!," which means "Doi Suthep is no good! Doi Suthep is tall. TOOooo tall!" I think that confused them just the right amount.

Magic Elephant Progress
So we back out of the alleyway, and I am immediately approached by the old, fat, bearded Texan farang, who yells up to me, "Say, you from America?" Then he starts coming on to one of the water buffaloes, pawing the coarse, wiry hair on its back and forcing his tongue into one of its nostrils. My elephant doesn't need any prompting from me as she rears back, trumpets a good, solid blast, and snarfs out a gleaming yellow-green bolt. It happens too fast for me to see the actual snarfing, but I do witness a white-bearded 5-baht coin fall to the ground and rankle on the street. Wait a minute -- that's not a 5-baht coin, it's a 5-cent coin!

Car horns honk, and I look around to see that the Bangkok alleyway we just came out of has led us into some American city! Two young black men emerge from the darkness and start punching and kicking my elephant.

"Hey, leave her alone!" I shout, "She didn't do anything to you!"

One of them pulls out a 9-mm pistol, but Jung's elephant is too fast for him. She squats on the armed robber and he accordions into a giant, tarnished nickel. Meanwhile, my robber is still punching my elephant in the face, eyes, and trunk. For some reason, she doesn't snarf him, though. She only looks up at me with frightened, helpless eyes. "Oh!" I realize this requires my action; an elephant cannot snarf in self-defense. I reach out and tug on her left ear: SNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!! One monster snarf-bolt comes flying out, and this guy gets turned into a smoldering 1944 steel war penny.

— David Saia

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