Stickman Readers' Submissions June 28th, 2010

For The Love Of Money…

My name is Sam and I am twenty-one years old. Just after I was born, my American father attacked my Thai mother, left her for dead and disappeared from our life. After some time in hospital, my mother returned to the family village – let's just say
it is in the hottest part of Isarn. A former farang boyfriend rode to her rescue but the price for that was that she left me in the care of my Thai grandparents. They lived in Bangkok but sent back only a pittance to my impoverished grandparents.

As I grew up amidst these peasant people I noticed that my brain and tongue were quicker than most, that I could weave stories out of the air that held many entranced. I soon lived two lives, on the surface I fit in so well that few bothered
to mention that I was not wholly Thai; but underneath my popularity I ran schemes to ruin those I did not like. To draw attention away from myself and to leave others in a state of scorn and ruination seemed part of my nature.

He Clinic Bangkok

If my American father was some kind of psychopath, I veered towards being a sociopath, and as in the case of many, a very intelligent one… in another life and country I could have climbed through the education system and become, for want
of a better word, a master of the universe. Being a poor Isarn lad, in effect, these avenues were lost to me…

My stepfather and I hated each other on first sight – he was one of the few who seemed to see straight through me. After all, he knew my father in passing and complained repeatedly, as if insulted to be in same room as myself, that I had
an identical smile. Although he had taken on my beaten mother he had made it plain he had neither interest nor time for myself and only a pittance trickled back to Isarn.

During the 1997 crash they moved back to the village, into a cheap concrete house that had been built for around 150,000 baht – much to the annoyance of the populace who would normally expect a farang-funded villa to cost millions. Wanting
to spend time with my mother I moved in there but was never made to feel welcome and don't think I exchanged more than six words with the farang. His Thai was laughable but he seemed quite popular with the family and friends. Despite the
absurdity of refusing to drink before 8.00pm, a couple of bottles of cheap local whisky was all it took to make them happy, though he refused to drink it and stuck to Chang beer.

CBD bangkok

Any farang coming to a rural situation is completely at the mercy of the locals, who would become riled if, for instance, a Thai wife lacked a local boyfriend. All a question of face. I started dropping rumours that the farang was looking
at me in a sexual manner and went as far as complaining to the teacher in school. When my mother found out, she gave me a vicious beating until her hands began to hurt – physically it is like I am built out of rubber, the pain just bounced off
me. Some meshing of rice cutter gore and American muscle.

The farang seemed to have no idea of what was going on but when he sussed they were gone again in an instant – I came back from school to find the house locked down and no sign of them.

Isarn is a violent place, where life is cheap. The men are fearsome in their drunken youth – whether in riding their motorcycles or fighting each other. Any perceived loss of face results in massive violence, although people are taught to
smile through pain and disappointment. Work can be soul destroying, resulting in only enough money for whisky and food. My Thai grandfather permanently wasted on rice whisky – one time, when his wife went off to work in the rice fields in a nearby
province, he sold all the furniture to fund his drinking – finding a lot of new friends in the process.

On her return, his wife gave him a vicious beating – she was a lot bigger than him. They had eight kids, seven girls and one slightly retarded but large boy. The only money that came in was from the girls, who with one exception, ended up
working as prostitutes as soon as they were old enough. Money equates to power in Thai families, and few complain about its source. One of my aunts was very fond of me, showered me with presents – she spent the years from fifteen to twenty-one
in a Thai brothel and then decided to hunt farang on Sukhumvit Road. Sometimes I stayed with her in Bangkok, the wooden shack next to a stinking canal not that dissimilar to the family home in Isarn.

wonderland clinic

Her younger sister was luckier – she married a British guy and went off to live in the UK but had no interest in him as a person. Once married she never had sex again with him, having pledged her heart to a Thai man. Three years later, divorced,
she came back with a large amount of money which went into buying houses, land and a massage business. In fact, of the seven sisters she was the only one to come close to getting her hands on serious money – even then, she lost out, as her husband
had very rich, elderly parents and when they died the money would have flowed for years.

Another sister worked in Japan, sent money home and when she returned after about ten years she was horrified to find that the parents had gone through all the money, with nothing to show for it. The youngest sister got pregnant by a Thai
man, they then got into drugs and he lost his job. She is now a Sukhumvit street-walker, but only doing short-time with farang – and she really hates every moment of it. It is easy to conclude that these people are pretty thick.

But this is only a little bit of history to put my life in its context… as you can read, my English is okay. A few months ago I finished my military service, it has honed my body nicely – you will not find an ounce of fat on me. My aunt
treats me to expensive clothes and cleans them for me every day. I almost always wear white, even a white hat sometimes, and you would never think I come from a family of Isarn peasants – I could even pass for farang in the right light, with the
hat taking attention away from my Laotian nose, inherited from my mother, much to everyone's amusement.

But what am I, Stickman reader… well, I lost my virginity to one of my aunt's friends who taught me how to really pleasure a Thai women despite only having a small cock (as did my American father, according to family legend). With
my looks, youth and sexual technique I can have almost any Isarn girl I want. What I actually did was take on half a dozen girls, aged fifteen to eighteen, break them in and then take them on down to Nana Plaza where one of the aunt's had
a contact.

So, yes, you could call me a pimp. But all the girls have fake IDs saying they are 18-19 and they look so winsome that they are hard to resist. When we find a rich farang, we have the perfect set-up, helped along by one of my other aunt's
police friends.

I can taste the big money. But hey, guess who I just saw leering at one of my women – yes, the father-in-law (long gone out of my mother's life who is now also street-walking just down Sukhumvit (the whole f..king family will
be there at this rate!). I'm going to take all his money and then maybe…

Stickman's thoughts:

An interesting submission and the final point you make of setting up Western men with young women is a scam which I have not seen nor heard much of at all in Thailand, something which strikes me as a kind of strange given the diversity of scams here.

nana plaza